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THE  INTERNATIONAL  SCIENTIFIC  SERIES. 

VOLUME  XXXIII. 


THE 


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Si 


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THE  INTERNATIONAL  SCIENTIFIC  SERIES. 


ILLUSIONS : 


A  PSYCHOLOGICAL  STUDY. 

Cl 


BY 

JAMES  SULLY, 

AUTHOR  OF  “  SENSATION  AND  INTUITION,”  “  PESSIMISM,”  ETO. 


NEW  YORK: 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY, 


|33.  ^ 

3 


PREFACE. 


The  present  volume  takes  a  wide  survey  of  the  field 
of  error,  embracing  in  its  view  not  only  the  illusions 
of  sense  dealt  with  in  treatises  on  physiological  optics, 
etc.,  but  also  other  errors  familiarly  known  as  illusions, 
and  resembling  the  former  in  their  structure  and  mode 
of  origin.  I  have  throughout  endeavoured  to  keep 
to  sL  strictly  scientific  treatment,  that  is  to  say,  the 
description  and  classification  of  acknowledged  errors, 
and  the  explanation  of  these  by  a  reference  to  their 
psychical  and  physical  conditions.  At  the  same  time, 
I  was  not  able,  at  the  close  of  my  exposition,  to  avoid 
pointing  out  how  the  psychology  leads  on  to  the 
philosophy  of  the  subject.  Some  of  the  chapters 
were  first  roughly  sketched  out  in  articles  published 
in  magazines  and  reviews ;  but  these  have  been  not 
only  greatly  enlarged,  but,  to  a  considerable  extent, 
rewritten. 


J.  S. 


Hampstead,  April,  1881. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  STUDY  OP  ILLUSION 

Vulgar  idea  of  Illusion,  1,  2  ;  Psychological  treatment  of  subject,  3,  4  ; 
definition  of  Illusion,  4-7 ;  Philosophic  extension  of  idea,  7,  8. 

CHAPTER  II. 

TIIE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  ILLUSIONS. 

Popular  and  Scientific  conceptions  of  Mind,  9,  10 ;  Illusion  and  Halluci¬ 
nation,  11-13  ;  varieties  of  Immediate  Knowledge,  13-16  >  fourfold 
division  of  Illusions,  16-18. 

CHAPTER  III. 

ILLUSI  /NS  OF  PERCEPTION  :  GENERAL. 

Psychology  of  Perception  : — The  Psychological  analysis  of  Perception,  19, 
20  ;  Sensation  and  its  discrimination,  etc.,  20,  21  ;  interpretation  of 
Sensation,  22,  23;  construction  of  material  object,  23,  24;  recogni¬ 
tion  of  object,  specific  and  individual,  24-27 ;  Preperception  and 
Perception,  27-31 ;  Physiological  conditions  of  Perception,  31-33  ; 
Visual  and  other  Sense-perception,  33,  34. 

Illusions  of  Perception  : — Illusion  of  Perception  defined,  35-38;  sources 
of  Sense-illusion,  38-40  :  (a)  confusion  of  Sense-impression,  40-44; 
( b )  misinterpretation  of  Sense-impression,  44;  Passive  and  Active 
misinterpretation,  44-46  ;  Passive  Illusions  as  organically  and  extra- 
organically  conditioned,  46-49. 


CONTENTS. 


viii 


CHAPTER  IY. 

illusions  of  perception — continued. 

A.  Passive  Illusions  (a)  as  determined  by  the  Organism. 

Results  of  Limits  of  Sensibility  : — Relation  of  quantity  of  Sensation  to 
that  of  Stimnlns,  50-52  ;  coalescence  of  simultaneous  Sensations, 
52-55 ;  after-effect  of  Stimulation,  55,  56 ;  effects  of  prolonged 
Stimulation,  56-58 ;  Specific  Energy  of  Nerves,  58,  59  ;  localization 
of  Sensation,  59-62  ;  Subjective  Sensations,  62-64. 

Results  of  Variation  of  Sensibility  : — Rise  and  fall  of  Sensibility,  64-67  ; 
Parsesthesia,  67,  68  ;  rationale  of  organically  conditioned  Elusions, 
68,  69. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

illusions  of  perception— continued. 

A.  Passive  Illusions  (b)  as  determined  by  the  Environment. 

Exceptional  Relation  of  Stimulus  to  Organ  : — Displacement  of  organ,  etc., 
70-72. 

Exceptional  Arrangement  of  Circumstances  in  the  Environment : — Mis¬ 
interpretation  of  the  direction  and  movement  of  objects,  72-75; 
misperception  of  Distance,  75,  76 ;  Illusions  of  depth,  relief,  and 
solidity  in  Art,  77-81 ;  Illusions  connected  with  the  perception  of 
objects  through  transparent  coloured  media,  82-84 ;  visual  trans¬ 
formation  of  concave  into  convex  form,  84-86  ;  false  recognition  of 
objects,  86,  87  ;  inattention  to  Sense-impression  in  Recognition, 
87-91 ;  suggestion  taking  the  direction  of  familiar  recurring  ex¬ 
periences,  91,  92. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

illusions  of  perception — continued. 

B.  Active  Illusions. 

Preperception  and  Illusion,  93-95. 

Voluntary  Preperception  : — Choice  of  interpretation  in  the  case  of  visible 
movement,  95,  96;  and  in  the  ease  of  flat  projections  of  form, 
96-98 ;  capricious  interpretation  of  obscure  impressions,  99,  100. 
Involuntary  Preperception : — Effects  of  permanent  Predisposition,  101, 102; 
effects  of  partial  temporary  Preadjustment,  102-105;  complete  Pre* 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


adjustment  or  Expectation,  106-109;  subordination  of  Sense-impres¬ 
sion  to  Preperception,  109-111  ;  transition  from  Illusion  to  Ilalluci 
nation,  111,  112;  rudimentary  Hallucinations,  112-114;  developed 
Hallucinations,  114-116;  Hallucination  in  normal  life,  116,  117; 
Hallucinations  of  insanity,  118-120  ;  gradual  development  of  Sense- 
illusions,  and  continuity  of  normal  and  abnormal  life,  120-123; 
Sanity  and  Insanity  distinguished,  123-126. 


(  CHAPTER  VIL 

DREAMS. 

Mystery  of  sleep,  127,  128;  theories  of  Dreams,  128,  129;  scientific 
explanation  of  Dreams,  129,  130. 

Sleep  and  Dreaming  : — Condition  of  organism  during  sleep,  131,  132; 
Are  the  nervous  centres  ever  wholly  inactive  during  sleep?  132-134 
nature  of  cerebral  activity  involved  in  Dreams,  134-136 ;  psychical 
conditions  of  Dreams,  136-138. 

The  Dream  as  Illusion : — External  Sense-impressions  as  excitants  of 
Dream-images,  139-143  ;  internal  “  subjective”  stimuli  in  the  sense- 
organs,  143-145 ;  organic  sensations,  145-147 ;  how  sensations  are 
exaggerated  in  Dream-interpretation,  147-151. 

The  Dream  as  Hallucination : — Results  of  direct  central  stimulation 
151-153  ;  indirect  central  stimulation  and  association,  153-155. 

The  Form  and  Structure  of  Dreams : — The  incoherence  of  Dreams  ex¬ 
plained,  156-161 ;  coherence  and  unity  of  Dream  as  effected  (a)  by 
coalescence  and  transformation  of  images,  161-163  ;  (6)  by  a  ground- 
tone  of  feeling,  164-168  ;  (c)  by  the  play  of  associative  dispositions, 
168-172 ;  ( d )  by  the  activities  of  selective  attention  stimulated  by 
the  rational  impulse  to  connect  and  to  arrange,  172-176 ;  examples 
of  Dreams,  176-179 ;  limits  of  intelligence  and  rational  activity  in 
Dreams,  180-182 ;  Dreaming  and  mental  disease,  182,  183 ;  After, 
dreams  and  Apparitions,  183-185. 

Note. — The  Hypnotic  Condition,  185-188. 

CHAPTER  Yin. 

ILLUSIONS  OP  INTROSPECTION. 

Illusions  of  Introspection  defined,  189-192 ;  question  of  the  possibility 
of  illusory  Introspection,  192-194;  incomplete  grasp  of  internal 
feelings  as  such,  194-196  ;  misobservation  of  internal  feelings  :  Paa- 


X 


CONTENTS. 


sire  Illusions,  196-199  ;  Active  Illusions,  199-202 ;  malobservation  of 
subjective  states,  202-205 ;  Illusory  Introspection  in  psychology  and 
philosophy,  205-208 ;  value  of  the  Introspective  method.  208-211. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OTHER  QUASIPRESENTATIVE  ILLUSIONS:  ERRORS  OF  INSIGHT. 

Emotion  and  Perception,  212  ;  Aesthetic  Intuition,  213 ;  Subjective  Im¬ 
pressions  of  beauty  misinterpreted,  213-216 ;  analogous  Emotional 
Intuitions,  216,  217  ;  Insight,  its  nature,  217-220  ;  Passive  Illusions 
of  Insight,  220-222;  Active  Illusions  of  Insight :  projection  of  indi¬ 
vidual  feelings,  222-224 ;  the  poetic  transformation  of  nature,  224- 
226 ;  special  predispositions  as  falsifying  Insight,  226-228 ;  value  of 
faculty  of  Insight,  228-230. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 

Vulgar  confidence  in  Memory,  231-233;  definition  of  Memory,  233-235; 
Psychology  of  Memory,  235-237  ;  Physiology  of  Memory,  237,  238 ; 
Memory  as  localization  in  the  past,  238-241 ;  Illusions  of  Memory 
classified,  241-245. 

(1)  Illusions  of  Time-Perspective  : — 

(a)  Definite  Localization  of  events  :  constant  errors  in  retrospective 
estimate  of  time,  245-249 ;  varying  errors  :  estimate  of  duration 
during  a  period,  249-251 ;  variations  in  retrospective  estimate  of 
duration,  251-256. 

(b)  Indefinite  Localization  :  effect  of  vividness  of  mnemonic  image 
on  the  apparent  distance  of  events,  256-258 ;  isolated  public  events, 
258,  259 ;  active  element  in  errors  of  Localization,  259-261. 

(2)  Distortions  of  Memory  : — Transformation  of  past  through  forgetful¬ 
ness,  261-264 ;  confusion  of  distinct  recollections,  264-266  ;  Active 
Illusion:  influence  of  present  imaginative  activity,  266-269 ;  exagge¬ 
ration  in  recollections  of  remote  experiences,  269,  270 ;  action  ol 
present  feeling  in  transforming  past,  270,  271. 

(3)  Hallucinations  of  Memory Their  nature,  271-273;  past  dreams  taken 

for  external  experiences,  273-277 ;  past  waking  imagination  taken 
for  external  reality,  277-280 ;  recollection  of  prenatal  ancestral 
experience,  280,  281 ;  filling  up  gaps  in  recollection,  281-283. 


CONTENTS. 


XI 


Illusions  connected  with  Personal  Identity : — Illusions  of  Memory  and 
Sense  of  identity,  283,  284 ;  idea  of  permanent  self,  how  built  up, 
285-287;  disturbances  of  sense  of  identity,  287-290;  fallibility  and 
trustworthiness  of  Memory,  290—292. 

Note. — Momentary  Illusions  of  Self-consciousness,  293. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Belief  as  Immediate  or  Intuitive,  294—296  ;  simple  and  compound  Belief, 

296. 

A.  Simple  'lllusory  Belief : — 

(1)  Expectation:  its  nature,  297,  298 ;  Is  Expectation  ever  intuitive? 
298  ;  Expectation  and  Inference  from  the  past,  299-301 ;  Expec¬ 
tation  of  new  kinds  of  experience,  301,  302 ;  Permanent  Expecta¬ 
tions  of  remote  events,  302 ;  misrepresentation  of  future  duration, 
302-305 ;  Imaginative  transformation  of  future,  305-307. 

(2)  Quasi-Expectations  :  anticipation  of  extra-personal  experiences, 
307,  308 ;  Retrospective  Beliefs,  30S-312. 

B.  Compound  Illusory  Belief: — 

(1)  Representations  of  permanent  things  :  their  structure,  312 ;  our 
representations  of  others  as  illusory,  312-315  ;  our  representation 
of  ourselves  as  illusory,  315;  Illusion  of  self-esteem,  316-318; 
genesis  of  illusory  opinion  of  self,  318-322  ;  Illusion  in  our  repre¬ 
sentations  of  classes  of  things,  322,  323 ;  and  in  our  views  of  the 
world  as  a  whole,  323,  324 ;  tendency  of  belief  towards  divergence, 
325 ;  and  towards  convergence,  326,  327. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

RESULTS. 

Range  of  Elusion,  328-330 ;  nature  and  causes  of  Illusion  in  general, 
331-334;  Illusion  identical  with  Fallacy,  334  ;  Illusion  as  abnormal, 
336,  337  ;  question  of  common  error,  337-339 ;  evolutionist’s  con¬ 
ception  of  error  as  maladaptation,  339-344 ;  common  intuitions 
tested  only  by  philosophy,  344 ;  assumptions  of  science  respecting 
external  reality,  etc.,  344-346  ;  philosophic  investigation  of  these 
assumptions,  346-348 ;  connection  between  scientific  and  philosophic 
consideration  of  Illusion,  348-350 ;  correction  of  Illusion  and  its 


CONTENTS. 


xii 


implications,  351,  352 ;  Fundamental  Intuitions  and  modern  psycho¬ 
logy,  352 ;  psychology  as  positive  science  and  as  philosophy,  353-355 ; 
points  of  resemblance  between  acknowledged  Illusions  and  Funda¬ 
mental  Intuitions,  355,  356;  question  of  origin,  and  question  of 
validity,  356,  357  ;  attitude  of  scientific  mind  towards  philosophic 
scepticism,  357-360 ;  Persistent  Intuitions  must  be  taken  as  true, 
360,  361. 


ILLUSIONS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  STUDY  OF  ILLUSION. 

Common  sense,  knowing  nothing  of  fine  distinctions, 
is  wont  to  draw  a  sharp  line  between  the  region  of 
illusion  and  that  of  sane  intelligence.  To  be  the 
victim  of  an  illusion  is,  in  the  popular  judgment,  to 
be  excluded  from  the  category  of  rational  men.  The 
term  at  once  calls  up  images  of  stunted  figures  with 
ill-developed  brains,  half-witted  creatures,  hardly  dis¬ 
tinguishable  from  the  admittedly  insane.  And  this 
way  of  thinking  of  illusion  and  its  subjects  is  strength¬ 
ened  by  one  of  the  characteristic  sentiments  of  our 
age.  The  nineteenth  century  intelligence  plumes 
itself  on  having  got  at  the  bottom  of  mediaeval  visions 
and  church  miracles,  and  it  is  wont  to  commiserate 
the  feeble  minds  that  are  still  subject  to  these  self- 
deceptions. 

According  to  this  view,  illusion  is  something  essen¬ 
tially  abnormal  and  allied  to  insanity.  And  it  would 
seem  to  follow  that  its  nature  and  origin  can  be  best 


2 


THE  STUDY  OF  ILLUSION. 


studied  by  those  whose  speciality  it  is  to  observe  the 
phenomena  of  abnormal  life.  Scientific  procedure  has 
in  the  main  conformed  to  this  distinction  of  common 
sense.  The  phenomena  of  illusion  have  ordinarily  been 
investigated  by  alienists,  that  is  to  say,  physicians  who 
are  brought  face  to  face  with  their  most  striking  forms 
in  the  mentally  deranged. 

While  there  are  very  good  reasons  for  this  treat¬ 
ment  of  illusion  as  a  branch  of  mental  pathology, 
it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  it  can  be  a  complete 
and  exhaustive  one.  Notwithstanding  the  flattering 
supposition  of  common  sense,  that  illusion  is  essentially 
an  incident  in  abnormal  life,  the  careful  observer  knows 
well  enough  that  the  case  is  far  otherwise. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  view  of  our  race  diametrically 
opposed  to  the  flattering  opinion  referred  to  above, 
namely,  the  humiliating  judgment  that  all  men 
habitually  err,  or  that  illusion  is  to  be  regarded  as 
the  natural  condition  of  mortals.  This  idea  has  found 
expression,  not  only  in  the  cynical  exclamation  of  the 
misanthropist  that  most  men  are  fools,  but  also  in  the 
cry  of  despair  that  sometimes  breaks  from  the  weary 
searcher  after  absolute  truth,  and  from  the  poet  when 
impressed  with  the  unreality  of  his  early  ideals. 

Without  adopting  this  very  disparaging  opinion 
of  the  intellectual  condition  of  mankind,  we  must 
recognize  the  fact  that  most  men  are  sometimes 
liable  to  illusion.  Hardly  anybody  is  always  con¬ 
sistently  sober  and  rational  in  his  perceptions  and 
beliefs.  A  momentary  fatigue  of  the  nerves,  a  little 
mental  excitement,  a  relaxation  of  the  effort  of  atten¬ 
tion  by  which  we  continually  take  our  bearings  with 


POPULAR  IDEA  OF  ILLUSION. 


3 


respect  to  the  real  world  about  us,  will  produce  just 
the  same  kind  of  confusion  of  reality  and  phantasm* 
which  we  observe  in  the  insane.  To  give  but  an 
example  :  the  play  of  fancy  which  leads  to  a  detection 
of  animal  and  other  forms  in  clouds,  is  known  to  be  an 
occupation  of  the  insane,  and  is  rightly  made  use  of  by 
Shakespeare  as  a  mark  of  incipient  mental  aberration 
in  Hamlet ;  and  yet  this  very  same  occupation  is  quite 
natural  to  children,  and  to  imaginative  adults  when  they 
choose  to  throw  the  reins  on  the  neck  of  their  phantasy. 
Our  luminous  circle  of  rational  perception  is  surrounded 
by  a  misty  penumbra  of  illusion.  Common  sense 
itself  may  be  said  to  admit  this,  since  the  greatest 
stickler  for  the  enlightenment  of  our  age  will  be  found 
in  practice  to  accuse  most  of  his  acquaintance  at 
some  time  or  another  of  falling  into  illusion. 

If  illusion  thus  has  its  roots  in  ordinary  mental  life, 
the  study  of  it  would  seem  to  belong  to  the  physiology 
as  much  as  to  the  pathology  of  mind.  We  may  even 
go  further,  and  say  that  in  the  analysis  and  explana¬ 
tion  of  illusion  the  psychologist  may  be  expected  to 
do  more  than  the  physician.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
latter  has  the  great  privilege  of  observing  the  pheno¬ 
mena  in  their  highest  intensity,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
former  has  the  advantage  of  being  familiar  with  the 
normal  intellectual  process  which  all  illusion  simulates 
or  caricatures.  To  this  it  must  be  added  that  the 
physician  is  naturally  disposed  to  look  at  illusion 
mainly,  if  not  exclusively,  on  its  practical  side,  that 
is,  as  a  concomitant  and  symptom  of  cerebral  disease, 
which  it  is  needful  to  be  able  to  recognize.  The 
psychologist  has  a  different  interest  in  the  subject. 


4  THE  STUDY  OF  ILLUSION. 

being  specially  concerned  to  understand  the  mental 
antecedents  of  illusion  and  its  relation  to  accurate 
perception  and  belief.  It  is  pretty  evident,  indeed, 
that  the  phenomena  of  illusion  form  a  region  common 
to  the  psychologist  and  the  mental  pathologist,  and 
that  the  complete  elucidation  of  the  subject  will  need 
the  co-operation  of  the  two  classes  of  investigator. 

In  the  present  volume  an  attempt  will  be  made  to 
work  out  the  psychological  side  of  the  subject ;  that 
is  to  say,  illusions  will  be  viewed  in  their  relation  to 
the  process  of  just  and  accurate  perception.  In  the 
carrying  out  of  this  plan  our  principal  attention  will 
be  given  to  the  manifestations  of  the  illusory  impulse 
in  normal  life.  At  the  same  time,  though  no  special 
acquaintance  with  the  pathology  of  the  subject  will  be 
laid  claim  to,  frequent  references  will  be  made  to  the 
illusions  of  the  insane.  Indeed,  it  will  be  found  that 
the  two  groups  of  phenomena — the  illusions  of  the 
normal  and  of  the  abnormal  condition — are  so  similar, 
and  pass  into  one  another  by  such  insensible  grada¬ 
tions,  that  it  is  impossible  to  discuss  the  one  apart 
from  the  other.  The  view  of  illusion  which  will  be 
adopted  in  this  work  is  that  it  constitutes  a  kind  of 
borderland  between  perfectly  sane  and  vigorous  mental 
life  and  dementia. 

And  here  at  once  there  forces  itself  on  our  atten¬ 
tion  the  question,  What  exactly  is  to  be  understood  by 
the  term  “  illusion  ”  ?  In  scientific  works  treating  of 
the  pathology  of  the  subject,  the  word  is  confined  to 
what  are  specially  known  as  illusions  of  the  senses, 
that  is  to  say,  to  false  or  illusory  perceptions.  And 
there  is  very  good  reason  for  this  limitation,  since  such 


WHAT  IS  ILLUSION  ? 


5 


illusions  of  the  senses  are  the  most  palpable  and 
striking  symptoms  of  mental  disease.  In  addition  to 
this,  it  must  be  allowed  that,  to  the  ordinary  reader, 
the  term  first  of  all  calls  up  this  same  idea  of  a  decep¬ 
tion  of  the  senses. 

At  the  same  time,  popular  usage  has  long  since 
extended  the  term  so  as  to  include  under  it  errors 
which  do  not  counterfeit  actual  perceptions.  W  e 
commonly  speak  of  a  man  being  under  an  illusion 
respecting  himself  when  he  has  a  ridiculously  exag¬ 
gerated  view  of  his  own  importance,  and  in  a  similar 
way  of  a  person  being  in  a  state  of  illusion  with 
respect  to  the  past  when,  through  frailty  of  memory, 
he  pictures  it  quite  otherwise  than  it  is  certainly 
known  to  have  been. 

It  will  be  found,  I  think,  that  there  is  a  very  good 
reason  for  this  popular  extension  of  the  term.  The 
errors  just  alluded  to  have  this  in  common  with 
illusions  of  sense,  that  they  simulate  the  form  of 
immediate  or  self-evident  cognition.  An  idea  held 
respecting  ourselves  or  respecting  our  past  history 
does  not  depend  on  any  other  piece  of  knowledge ;  in 
other  words,  is  not  adopted  as  the  result  of  a  process 
of  reasoning.  What  I  believe  with  reference  to  my 
past  history,  so  far  as  I  can  myself  recall  it,  I  believe 
instantaneously  and  immediately,  without  the  inter¬ 
vention  of  any  premise  or  reason.  Similarly,  our 
notions  of  ourselves  are,  for  the  most  part,  obtained 
apart  from  any  process  of  inference.  The  view  which 
a  man  takes  of  his  own  character  or  claims  on  society 
he  is  popularly  supposed  to  receive  intuitively  by  a 
mere  act  of  internal  observation.  Such  beliefs  may 


6 


THE  STUDY  OF  ILLUSION. 


not,  indeed,  have  all  the  overpowering  force  which 
belongs  to  illusory  perceptions,  for  the  intuition  of 
something  by  the  senses  is  commonly  looked  on  as  the 
most  immediate  and  irresistible  kind  of  knowledge. 
Still,  they  must  he  said  to  come  very  near  illusions  of 
sense  in  the  degree  of  their  self-evident  certainty. 

Taking  this  view  of  illusion,  we  may  provisionally 
define  it  as  any  species  of  error  which  counterfeits  the 
form  of  immediate,  self-evident,  or  intuitive  knowledge, 
whether  as  sense-perception  or  otherwise.  Whenever 
a  thing  is  believed  on  its  own  evidence  and  not  as  a 
conclusion  from  something  else,  and  the  thing  then 
believed  is  demonstrably  wrong,  there  is  an  illusion. 
The  term  would  thus  appear  to  cover  all  varieties  of 
error  which  are  not  recognized  as  fallacies  or  false 
inferences.  If  for  the  present  we  roughly  divide  all 
our  knowledge  into  the  two  regions  of  primary  or 
intuitive,  and  secondary  or  inferential  knowledge,  we 
see  that  illusion  is  false  or  spurious  knowledge  of  the 
first  kind,  fallacy  false  or  spurious  knowledge  of  the 
second  kind.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  to  be  remembered 
that  this  division  is  only  a  very  rough  one.  As  will 
appear  in  the  course  of  our  investigation,  the  same 
error  may  be  called  either  a  fallacy  or  an  illusion, 
according  as  we  are  thinking  of  its  original  mode  of 
production  or  of  the  form  which  it  finally  assumes ; 
and  a  thorough-going  psychological  analysis  of  error 
may  discover  that  these  two  classes  are  at  bottom  very 
similar. 

As  we  proceed,  we  shall,  I  think,  find  an  ample 
justification  for  our  definition.  We  shall  see  that 
such  illusions  as  those  respecting  ourselves  or  the 


DEFINITION  OF  ILLUSION. 


7 


past  arise  by  very  much  the  same  mental  processes  as 
those  which  are  discoverable  in  the  production  of 
illusory  perceptions  ;  and  thus  a  complete  psychology 
of  the  one  class  will,  at  the  same  time,  contain  the 
explanation  of  the  other  classes. 

The  reader  is  doubtless  aware  that  philosophers 
have  still  further  extended  the  idea  of  illusion  by 
seeking  to  bring  under  it  beliefs  which  the  common 
sense  of  mankind  has  always  adopted  and  never  begun 
to  suspect.  Thus,  according  to  the  idealist,  the  popu¬ 
lar  notion  (the  existence  of  which  Berkeley,  however, 
denied)  of  an  external  world,  existing  in  itself  and  in 
no  wise  dependent  on  our  perceptions  of  it,  resolves 
itself  into  a  grand  illusion  of  sense. 

At  the  close  of  our  study  of  illusions  we  shall 
return  to  this  point.  We  shall  there  inquire  into  the 
connection  between  those  illusions  which  are  popularly 
recognized  as  such,  and  those  which  first  come  into 
view  or  appear  to  do  so  (for  we  must  not  yet  assume 
that  there  are  such)  after  a  certain  kind  of  philosophic 
reflection.  And  some  attempt  will  be  made  to  de¬ 
termine  roughly  how  far  the  process  of  dissolving  these 
substantial  beliefs  of  mankind  into  airy  phantasms 
may  venture  to  go. 

Bor  the  present,  however,  these  so-called  illusions 
in  philosophy  will  be  ignored.  It  is  plain  that  illusion 
exists  only  in  antithesis  to  real  knowledge.  This  last 
must  be  assumed  as  something  above  all  question. 
And  a  rough  and  provisional,  though  for  our  purpose 
•sufficiently  accurate,  demarcation  of  the  regions  of  the 
real  and  the  illusory  seems  to  coincide  with  the  line 
which  common  sense  draws  between  what  all  normal 


8 


THE  STUDY  OF  ILLUSION. 


men  agree  in  holding  and  what  the  individual  holds, 
whether  temporarily  or  permanently,  in  contradiction 
to  this.  For  our  present  purpose  the  real  is  that 
which  is  true  for  all.  Thus,  though  physical  science 
may  tell  us  that  there  is  nothing  corresponding  to  our 
sensations  of  colour  in  the  world  of  matter  and  motion 
which  it  conceives  as  surrounding  us;  yet,  inasmuch 
as  to  all  men  endowed  with  the  normal  colour-sense 
the  same  material  objects  appear  to  have  the  same 
colour,  we  may  speak  of  any  such  perception  as 
practically  true,  marking  it  off  from  those  plainly 
illusory  perceptions  which  are  due  to  some  subjective 
cause,  as,  for  example,  fatigue  of  the  retina. 

To  sum  up :  in  treating  of  illusions  we  shall 
assume,  what  science  as  distinguished  from  philosophy 
is  bound  to  assume,  namely,  that  human  experience  is 
consistent ;  that  men’s  perceptions  and  beliefs  fall  into 
a  consensus.  From  this  point  of  view  illusion  is  seen 
to  arise  through  some  exceptional  feature  in  the  situa¬ 
tion  or  condition  of  the  individual,  which,  for  the 
time,  breaks  the  chain  of  intellectual  solidarity  which 
under  ordinary  circumstances  binds  the  single  member 
to  the  collective  body.  Whether  the  common  ex¬ 
perience  which  men  thus  obtain  is  rightly  interpreted 
is  a  question  which  does  not  concern  us  here.  For  our 
present  purpose,  which  is  the  determination  and 
explanation  of  illusion  as  popularly  understood,  it  is 
sufficient  that  there  is  this  general  consensus  of  belief, 
and  this  may  provisionally  be  regarded  as  at  least 
practically  true. 


CHAPTER  II. 


TIIE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  ILLUSIONS. 

If  illusion  is  the  simulation  of  immediate  knowledge, 
the  most  obvious  mode  of  classifying  illusions  would 
appear  to  be  according  to  the  variety  of  the  knowledge 
which  they  simulate. 

Now,  the  popular  psychology  that  floats  about  in 
the  ordinary  forms  of  language  has  long  since  dis¬ 
tinguished  certain  kinds  of  unreasoned  or  uninferred 
knowledge.  Of  these  the  two  best  known  are  per¬ 
ception  and  memory.  When  I  see  an  object  before 
me,  or  when  I  recall  an  event  in  my  past  experience, 
I  am  supposed  to  grasp  a  piece  of  knowledge  directly, 
to  know  something  immediately,  and  not  through  the 
medium  of  something  else.  Yet  I  know  differently  in 
the  two  cases.  In  the  first  I  know  by  what  is  called  a 
presentative  process,  namely,  that  of  sense-perception ; 
in  the  second  I  know  by  a  representative  process, 
namely,  that  of  reproduction,  or  on  the  evidence  of 
memory.  In  the  one  case  the  object  of  cognition  is 
present  to  my  perceptive  faculties  ;  in  the  other  it 
is  recalled  by  the  power  of  memory. 

Scientific  psychology  tends,  no  doubt,  to  break  down 
some  of  these  popular  distinctions.  Just  as  the  zoologist 


10 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  ILLUSIONS. 


sometimes  groups  together  varieties  of  animals  which 
the  unscientific  eye  would  never  think  of  connecting,  so 
•the  psychologist  may  analyze  mental  operations  which 
appear  widely  dissimilar  to  the  popular  mind,  and 
reduce  them  to  one  fundamental  process.  Thus  recent 
psychology  draws  no  sharp  distinction  between  per¬ 
ception  and  recollection.  It  finds  in  both  very  much 
the  same  elements,  though  combined  in  a  different  way 
Strictly  speaking,  indeed,  perception  must  be  defined 
as  a  presentative-representative  operation.  To  the 
psychologist  it  comes  to  very  much  the  same  thing 
whether,  for  example,  on  a  visit  to  Switzerland,  our 
minds  are  occupied  in  perceiving  the  distance  of  a 
mountain  or  in  remembering  some  pleasant  excursion 
which  we  made  to  it  on  a  former  visit.  In  both  cases 
there  is  a  reinstatement  of  the  past,  a  reproduction 
of  earlier  experience,  a  process  of  adding  to  a  present 
impression  a  product  of  imagination — taking  this  word 
in  its  widest  sense.  In  both  cases  the  same  laws  of 
reproduction  or  association  are  illustrated. 

Just  as  a  deep  and  exhaustive  analysis  of  the 
intellectual  operations  thus  tends  to  identify  their 
various  forms  as  they  are  distinguished  by  the  popular 
mind,  so  a  thorough  investigation  of  the  flaws  in  these 
operations,  that  is  to  say,  the  counterfeits  of  knowledge, 
will  probably  lead  to  an  identification  of  the  essential 
mental  process  which  underlies  them.  It  is  apparent 
for  example,  that,  whetber  a  man  projects  some  figment 
of  his  imagination  into  the  external  world,  giving  it, 
present  material  reality,  or  whether  (if  I  may  be 
allowed  the  term)  he  retrojects  it  into  the  dim  region 
of  the  past,  and  takes  it  for  a  reality  that  has  been 


POPULAR  AND  SCIENTIFIC  CLASSIFICATION.  11 


he  is  committing  substantially  the  same  blunder. 
The  source  of  the  illusion  in  both  cases  is  one  and 
the  same. 

It  might  seem  to  follow  from  this  that  a  scientific 
discussion  of  the  subject  would  overlook  the  obvious 
distinction  between  illusions  of  perception  and  those  of 
memory;  that  it  would  attend  simply  to  differences  in 
the  mode  of  origination  of  the  illusion,  whatever  its 
external  form.  Our  next  step,  then,  would  appear  to 
l>e  to  determine  these  differences  in  the  mode  of  pro¬ 
duction. 

That  there  are  differences  in  the  origin  and  source 
of  illusion  is  a  fact  which  has  been  fully  recognized  by 
those  writers  who  have  made  a  special  study  of  sense- 
illusions.  By  these  the  term  illusion  is  commonly 
employed  in  a  narrow,  technical  sense,  and  opposed 
to  hallucination.  An  illusion,  it  is  said,  must  always 
have  its  starting-point  in  some  actual  impression, 
whereas  a  hallucination  has  no  such  basis.  Thus  it  is 
an  illusion  when  a  man,  under  the  action  of  terror, 
takes  a  stump  of  a  tree,  whitened  by  the  moon’s  rays, 
for  a  ghost.  It  is  a  hallucination  when  an  imaginative 
person  so  vividly  pictures  to  himself  the  form  of 
some  absent  friend  that,  for  the  moment,  he  fancies 
himself  actually  beholding  him.  Illusion  is  thus  a 
partial  displacement  of  external  fact  by  a  fiction  of  the 
imagination,  while  hallucination  is  a  total  displacement. 

This  distinction,  which  has  been  adopted  by  the 
majority  of  recent  alienists,1  is  a  valuable  one,  and 

1  A  history  of  the  distinction  is  given  by  Brierre  de  Boismont,  in 
his  work  On  Illusions  (translated  by  R.  T.  Hulme,  1859).  He  says 
that  Arnold  (180G)  first  d<  fined  hallucination,  and  distinguished  it 


12 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  ILLUSIONS. 


must  not  be  lost  sight  of  here.  It  would  seem,  from 
a  psychological  point  of  view,  to  be  an  important  cir¬ 
cumstance  in  the  genesis  of  a  false  perception  whether 
the  intellectual  process  sets  out  from  within  or  from 
without.  And  it  will  be  found,  moreover,  that  this 
distinction  may  be  applied  to  all  the  varieties  of  error 
which  I  propose  to  consider.  Thus,  for  example,  it  will 
be  seen  further  on  that  a  false  recollection  may  set  out 
either  from  the  idea  of  some  actual  past  occurrence  or 
from  a  present  product  of  the  imagination. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  however,  that  the  line  of 
separation  between  illusion  and  hallucination,  as  thus 
defined,  is  a  very  narrow  one.  In  by  far  the  largest 
number  of  hallucinations  it  is  impossible  to  prove  that 
there  is  no  modicum  of  external  agency  co-operating 
in  the  production  of  the  effect.  It  is  presumable, 
indeed,  that  many,  if  not  all,  hallucinations  have  such 
a  basis  of  fact.  Thus,  the  madman  who  projects  his 
internal  thoughts  outwards  in  the  shape  of  external 
voices  may,  for  aught  we  know,  be  prompted  to  do  so 
in  part  by  faint  impressions  coming  from  the  ear,  the 
result  of  those  slight  stimulations  to  which  the  organ 
is  always  exposed,  even  in  profound  silence,  and  which 
in  his  case  assume  an  exaggerated  intensity.  And  ever 
if  it  is  clearly  made  out  that  there  are  hallucinations 
in  the  strict  sense,  that  is  to  say,  false  perceptions 
which  are  wholly  due  to  internal  causes,  it  must  be 
conceded  that  illusion  shades  off  into  hallucination  by 
steps  which  it  is  impossible  for  science  to  mark.  In 

from  illusion.  Esquirer,  in  liis  work,  Ties  Maladies  Me'ntales  (1838), 
may  be  said  to  have  fixed  the  dislinction.  (See  Hunt’s  translation, 
1815,  p.  111.) 


ILLUSION  AND  HALLUCINATION. 


13 


many  cases  it  must  be  left  an  open  question  whether 
the  error  is  to  be  classed  as  an  illusion  or  as  a  hallu¬ 
cination.1 

For  these  reasons,  I  think  it  best  not  to  make  the 
distinction  between  illusion  and  hallucination  the 
leading  principle  of  my  classification.  However  im¬ 
portant  psychologically,  it  does  not  lend  itself  to  this 
purpose.  The  distinction  must  be  kept  in  view  and 
illustrated  as  far  as  possible.  Accordingly,  while  in 
general  following  popular  usage  and  employing  the 
term  illusion  as  the  generic  name,  I  shall,  wdien  con¬ 
venient,  recognize  the  narrow  and  technical  sense  of 
the  term  as  answering  to  a  species  co-ordinate  with 
hallucination. 

Departing,  then,  from  what  might  seem  the  ideally 
best  order  of  exposition,  I  propose,  after  all,  to  set 
out  with  the  simple  popular  scheme  of  faculties  already 
referred  to.  Even  if  they  are,  psychologically  con¬ 
sidered,  identical  operations,  perception  and  memory 
are  in  general  sufficiently  marked  off  by  a  speciality 
in  the  form  of  the  operation.  Thus,  while  memory  is 
the  reproduction  of  something  wdtli  a  special  reference 
of  consciousness  to  its  past  existence,  perception  is  the 
reproduction  of  something  with  a  special  reference  to 
its  present  existence  as  a  part  of  the  presented  object. 
In  other  words,  though  largely  representative  when 
viewed  as  to  its  origin,  perception  is  presentative  in 
relation  to  the  object  which  is  supposed  to  be  im- 

1  This  fact  has  been  fully  recognized  by  writers  on  Ihe  pathology 
of  the  subject;  for  example,  Griesinger.  Mental  Pathology  and  Thera- 
yeutics  (London,  1867),  p.  84;  Baillarger,  article,  “Dos  Hallucina¬ 
tions,”  in  the  Meinoires  de  V Acadcmie  lioyale  de  Mcdecine,  tom.  xii. 
p.  273,  etc.;  Wundt,  Physiol ogisclie  Psycholugie ,  p.  653. 


II 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  ILLUSIONS. 


mediately  present  to  the  mind  at  the  moment.1 
Hence  the  convenience  of  recognizing  the  popular 
classification,  and  of  making  it  our  starting-point  in 
the  present  case. 

All  knowledge  which  has  any  appearance  of  being 
directly  reached,  immediate,  or  self-evident,  that  is 
to  say,  of  not  being  inferred  from  other  knowledge, 
may  be  divided  into  four  principal  varieties :  Internal 
Perception  or  Introspection  of  the  mind’s  own  feelings; 
External  Perception  ;  Memory  ;  and  Belief,  in  so  far  as 
it  simulates  the  form  of  direct  knowledge.  The  first 
is  illustrated  in  a  man’s  consciousness  of  a  present 
feeling  of  pain  or  pleasure.  The  second  and  the  third 
kinds  have  already  been  spoken  of,  and  are  too  familiar 
to  require  illustration.  It  is  only  needful  to  remark 
here  that,  under  perception,  or  rather  in  close  con¬ 
junction  with  it,  I  purpose  dealing  with  the  knowledge 
of  other’s  feelings,  in  so  far  as  this  assumes  the  aspect 
of  immediate  knowledge.  The  term  belief  is  here 
used  to  include  expectations  and  any  other  kinds  of 
conviction  that  do  not  fall  under  one  of  the  other 
heads.  An  instance  of  a  seemingly  immediate  belief 
would  be  a  prophetic  prevision  of  a  coming  disaster, 
or  a  man’s  unreasoned  persuasion  as  to  his  own  powers 
of  performing  a  difficult  task. 

It  is,  indeed,  said  by  many  thinkers  that  there  are 
no  legitimate  immediate  beliefs ;  that  all  our  expecta¬ 
tions  and  other  convictions  about  things,  in  so  far  as  they 
are  sound,  must  repose  on  other  genuinely  immediate 

1  I  here  touch  ou  the  distinction  between  the  psychological  and 
the  philosophical  view  of  perception,  to  be  brought  out  more  fully 
by-and-by. 


VARIETIES  OF  IMMEDIATE  KNOWLEDGE.  15 


knowledge,  more  particularly  sense-perception  and 
memory.  This  difficult  question  need  not  be  discussed 
here.  It  is  allowed  by  all  that  there  is  a  multitude  of 
beliefs  which  we  hold  tenaciously  and  on  which  we 
are  ready  to  act,  which,  to  the  mature  mind,  wear  the 
appearance  of  intuitive  truths,  owing  their  cogency  to 
nothing  beyond  themselves.  A  man’s  belief  in  his 
own  merits,  however  it  may  have  been  first  obtained,  is 
as  immediately  assured  to  him  as  his  recognition  of  a 
real  object  in  the  act  of  sense-perception.  It  may  be 
added  that  many  of  our  every-day  working  beliefs 
about  the  world  in  which  we  live,  though  presumably 
derived  from  memory  and  perception,  tend  to  lose  all 
traces  of  their  origin,  and  to  simulate  the  aspect  of 
intuitions.  Thus  the  proposition  that  logicians  are  in 
the  habit  of  pressing  on  our  attention,  that  “  Men  are 
mortal,”  seems,  on  the  face  of  it,  to  common  sense  to  be 
something  very  like  a  self-evident  truth,  not  depend¬ 
ing  on  any  particular  facts  of  experience. 

In  calling  these  four  forms  of  cognition  immediate, 
I  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  to  be  placing  them  on 
the  same  logical  level.  It  is  plain,  indeed,  to  a  reflec¬ 
tive  mind  that,  though  each  may  be  called  immediate 
in  this  superficial  sense,  there  are  perceptible  differences 
in  the  degree  of  their  immediacy.  Thus  it  is  manifest, 
after  a  moment’s  reflection,  that  expectation,  so  far 
as  it  is  just,  is  not  primarily  immediate  in  the  sense 
in  which  purely  presentative  knowledge  is  so,  since  it 
can  be  shown  to  follow  from  something  else.  So  a 
general  proposition,  though  through  familiarity  and 
innumerable  illustrations  it  has  acquired  a  self-evident 
character,  is  seen  with  a  very  little  inspection  to  be 


10 


T1IE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  ILLUSIONS. 


less  fundamentally  and  essentially  so  than  the  proposi¬ 
tion,  “  I  am  now  feeling  pain ;  ”  and  it  will  be  found 
that  even  with  respect  to  memory,  when  the  remem¬ 
bered  event  is  at  all  remote,  the  process  of  cognition 
approximates  to  a  mediate  operation,  namely,  one  of 
inference.  What  the  relative  values  of  these  different 
kinds  of  immediate  knowledge  are  is  a  point  which 
will  have  to  be  touched  on  at  the  end  of  our  study. 
Here  it  must  suffice  to  warn  the  reader  against  the 
supposition  that  this  value  is  assumed  to  be  identical. 

It  might  seem  at  a  first  glance  to  follow  from  this 
four- fold  scheme  of  immediate  or  quasi-immediate 
knowledge  that  there  are  four  varieties  of  illusion. 
And  this  is  true  in  the  sense  that  these  four  heads 
cover  all  the  main  varieties  of  illusion.  If  there  are 
only  four  varieties  of  knowledge  which  can  lay  anv 
claim  to  be  considered  immediate,  it  must  be  that 
every  illusion  will  simulate  the  form  of  one  of  these 
varieties,  and  so  be  referable  to  the  corresponding 
division. 

But  though  there  are  conceivably  these  four  species 
of  illusion,  it  does  not  follow  that  there  are  any  actual 
instances  of  each  class  forthcoming.  This  we  cannot 
determine  till  we  have  investigated  the  nature  and 
origin  of  illusory  error.  For  example,  it  might  be 
found  that  introspection,  or  the  immediate  inspection 
of  our  own  feelings  or  mental  states,  does  not  supply 
the  conditions  necessary  to  the  production  of  such 
error.  And,  indeed,  it  is  probable  that  most  persons, 
antecedently  to  inquiry,  would  be  disposed  to  say  that 
to  fall  into  error  in  the  observation  of  what  is  actually 
going  on  in  our  own  minds  is  impossible. 


VARIETIES  OF  ILLUSION. 


17 


With  the  exception  of  this  first  division,  however, 
this  scheme  may  easily  be  seen  to  answer  to  actual 
phenomena.  That  there  are  illusions  of  perception  is 
obvious,  since  it  is  to  the  errors  of  sense  that  the  term 
illusion  has  most  frequently  been  confined.  It  is 
hardly  less  evident  that  there  are  illusions  of  memory. 
The  peculiar  difficulty  of  distinguishing  between  a 
past  real  event  and  a  mere  phantom  of  the  imagina¬ 
tion,  illustrated  in  the  exclamation,  “  I  either  saw  it 
or  dreamt  it,”  sufficiently  shows  that  memory  is  liable 
to  be  imposed  on.  Finally,  it  is  agreed  on  by  all  that 
the  beliefs  we  are  wont  to  regard  as  self-evident  are 
sometimes  erroneous.  When,  for  example,  an  imagina¬ 
tive  woman  says  she  knows,  by  mere  intuition,  that 
something  interesting  is  going  to  happen,  say  the 
arrival  of  a  favourite  friend,  she  is  plainly  running 
the  risk  of  being  self-deluded.  So,  too,  a  man’s  esti¬ 
mate  of  himself,  however  valid  for  him,  may  turn  out 
to  be  flagrantly  false. 

In  the  following  discussion  of  the  subject  I  shall 
depart  from  the  above  order  in  so  far  as  to  set  out  with 
illusions  of  sense-perception.  These  are  well  ascer¬ 
tained,  forming,  indeed,  the  best-marked  variety. 
And  the  explanation  of  these  has  been  carried  much 
further  than  that  of  the  others.  Hence,  according  to 
the  rule  to  proceed  from  the  known  to  the  unknown, 
there  will  be  an  obvious  convenience  in  examining 
these  first  of  all.  After  having  done  this,  we  shall  be 
in  a  position  to  inquire  whether  there  is  anything 
analogous  in  the  region  of  introspection  or  internal 
perception.  Our  study  of  the  errors  of  sense-per¬ 
ception  will,  moreover,  prove  the  best  preparation  for 


18 


THE  CLASSIFICATION  OF  ILLUSIONS. 


an  inquiry  into  the  nature  and  mode  of  production  of 
the  remaining  two  varieties.1 

I  would  add  that,  in  close  connection  with  the 
first  division,  illusions  of  perception,  I  shall  treat  the 
subtle  and  complicated  phenomena  of  dreams.  Al¬ 
though  containing  elements  which  ought,  according  to 
strictness,  to  be  brought  under  one  of  the  other  heads, 
they  are,  as  their  common  appellation,  “visions,”  shows, 
largely  simulations  of  external,  and  more  especially 
visual,  perception. 

Dreams  are  no  doubt  sharply  marked  off  from 
illusions  of  sense-perception  by  a  number  of  special 
circumstances.  Indeed,  it  may  be  thought  that  they 
cannot  be  adequately  treated  in  a  work  that  aims 
primarily  at  investigating  the  illusions  of  normal  life, 
and  should  rather  be  left  to  those  who  make  the 
pathological  side  of  the  subject  their  special  study. 
Yet  it  may,  perhaps,  be  said  that  in  a  wide  sense 
dreams  are  a  feature  of  normal  life.  And,  however 
this  be,  they  have  quite  enough  in  common  with  othei 
illusions  of  perception  to  justify  us  in  dealing  with 
them  in  close  connection  with  these. 

1  It  might  even  be  urged  that  the  order  here  adopted  is  scientifically 
the  best,  since  sense-perception  is  the  earliest  form  of  knowledge, 
introspected  facts  being  known  only  in  relation  to  perceived  facts. 
But  if  the  mind's  knowledge  of  its  own  states  is  thus  later  in  time,  it  is 
earlier  in  the  logical  order,  that  is  to  say,  it  is  the  most  strictly  pre- 
sentative  form  of  knowledge. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ILLUSIONS  OP  PERCEPTION  :  GENERAL. 

The  errors  with  which  we  shall  be  concerned  in  this 
chapter  are  those  which  are  commonly  denoted  by  the 
term  illusion,  that  is  to  say,  those  of  sense.  They 
are  sometimes  called  deceptions  of  the  senses ;  but 
this  is  a  somewhat  loose  expression,  suggesting  that 
we  can  be  deceived  as  to  sensation  itself,  though,  as  we 
shall  see  later  on,  this  is  only  true  in  a  very  restricted 
meaning  of  the  phrase.  To  speak  correctly,  sense- 
illusions  must  be  said  to  arise  by  a  simulation  of  the 
form  of  just  and  accurate  perceptions.  Accordingly, 
we  shall  most  frequently  speak  of  them  as  illusions  of 
perception. 

In  order  to  investigate  the  nature  of  any  kind  of 
error,  it  is  needful  to  understand  the  kind  of  know¬ 
ledge  it  imitates,  and  so  we  must  begin  our  inquiry 
into  the  nature  of  illusions  of  sense  by  a  brief  account 
of  the  psychology  of  perception ;  and,  in  doing  this, 
we  shall  proceed  best  by  regarding  this  operation 
in  its  most  complete  form,  namely,  that  of  visual  per¬ 
ception. 

I  may  observe  that  in  this  analysis  of  perception  I 
shall  endeavour  to  keep  to  known  facts,  namely,  the 


20 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


psychical  phenomena  or  events  which  can  be  seen  by 
the  methods  of  scientific  psychology  to  enter  into  the 
mental  content  called  the  percept.  I  do  not  now 
inquire  whether  such  an  analysis  can  help  us  to  under¬ 
stand  all  that  is  meant  by  perception.  This  point  will 
have  to  be  touched  later  on.  Here  it  is  enough  to  say 
that,  whatever  our  philosophy  of  perception  may  be, 
we  must  accept  the  psychological  fact  that  the  con¬ 
crete  mental  state  in  the  act  of  perception  is  built  up 
out  of  elements,  the  history  of  w'hich  can  be  traced  by 
the  methods  of  mental  science. 

Psychology  of  Perception. 

Confining  ourselves  for  the  present  to  the  mental, 
as  distinguished  from  the  physical,  side  of  the  opera¬ 
tion,  we  soon  find  that  perception  is  not  so  simple  a 
matter  .as  it  might  at  first  seem  to  be.  When  a  man 
on  a  hot  day  looks  at  a  running  stream  and  “  sees  ” 
the  delicious  coolness,  it  is  not  difficult  to  show  that 
he  is  really  performing  an  act  of  mental  synthesis, 
or  imaginative  construction.  To  the  sense-impression  1 
which  his  eye  now  gives  him,  he  adds  something 
which  past  experience  has  bequeathed  to  his  mind. 
Iu  perception,  the  material  of  sensation  is  acted  on 
by  the  mind,  which  embodies  in  its  present  attitude 
all  the  results  of  its  past  growth.  Let  us  look  at  this 
process  of  synthesis  a  little  more  closely. 

When  a  sensation  arises  in  the  mind,  it  may,  under 

1  Here  and  elsewhere  I  use  the  word  “  impression  ”  for  the  whole 
complex  of  sensation  which  is  present  at  the  moment.  It  may, 
perhaps,  not  be  unnecessary  to  add  that,  in  employing  this  term,  I  am 
making  no  assumption  about  the  independent  existence  of  external 
objects. 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  PERCEPTION. 


21 


certain  circumstance?,  go  unattended  to.  In  that  case 
there  is  no  perception.  The  sensation  floats  in  the 
dim  outer  regions  of  consciousness  as  a  vague  feeling, 
the  real  nature  and  history  of  which  are  unknown. 
This  remark  applies  not  only  to  the  undefined  bodily 
sensations  that  are  always  oscillating  about  the 
threshold  of  obscure  consciousness,  but  to  the  higher 
sensations  connected  with  the  special  organs  of  per¬ 
ception.  The  student  in  optics  soon  makes  the  start¬ 
ling  discovery  that  his  field  of  vision  has  all  through 
his  life  been  haunted  with  weird  shapes  which  have 
never  troubled  the  serenity  of  his  mind  just  because 
they  have  never  been  distinctly  attended  to. 

The  immediate  result  of  this  process  of  directing 
the  keen  glance  of  attention  to  a  sensation  is  to  give 
it  greater  force  and  distinctness.  By  attending  to  it  we 
discriminate  it  from  other  feelings  present  and  past, 
and  classify  it  with  like  sensations  previously  received. 
Thus,  if  I  receive  a  visual  impression  of  the  colour 
orange,  the  first  consequence  of  attending  to  it  is  to 
mark  it  off  from  other  colour-impressions,  including 
those  of  red  and  yellow.  And  in  recognizing  the 
peculiar  quality  of  the  impression  by  applying  to  it 
the  term  orange,  I  obviously  connect  it  with  other 
similar  sensations  called  by  the  same  name.  If  a  sen¬ 
sation  is  perfectly  new,  there  cannot,  of  course,  be  this 
process  of  classifying,  and  in  this  case  the  closely 
related  operation  of  discriminating  it  from  other  sen¬ 
sations  is  less  exactly  performed.  But  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  remark  that,  in  the  mind  of  the  adult, 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  no  perfectly  new  sensa¬ 
tion  ever  occurs. 


22 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


When  the  sensation,  or  complex  sensation,  is 
thus  defined  and  recognized,  there  follows  the  process 
of  interpretation,  by  which  I  mean  the  taking  up  of 
the  impression  as  an  element  into  the  complex  mental 
state  known  as  a  percept.  Without  going  into  the 
philosophical  question  of  what  this  process  of  synthesis 
exactly  means,  I  may  observe  that,  by  common  con¬ 
sent,  it  takes  place  to  a  large  extent  by  help  of  a 
reproduction  of  sensations  of  various  kinds  experi¬ 
enced  in  the  past.  That  is  to  say,  the  details  in  this 
act  of  combination  are  drawn  from  the  store  of  mental 
-recollections  to  which  the  growing  mind  is  ever  adding, 
^In  other  words,  the  percept  arises  through  a  fusion  of 
an  actual  sensation  with  mental  representations  or 
“  images  ”  of  sensation.1  Every  element  of  the  object 
that  we  thus  take  up  in  the  act  of  perception,  or  put 
into  the  percept,  as  its  actual  size,  distance,  and  so  on, 
will  be  found  to  make  itself  known  to  us  through 
mental  images  or  revivals  of  past  experiences,  such  as 
those  we  have  in  handling  the  object,  moving  to  and 
from  it,  etc.  It  follows  that  if  this  is  an  essential 
ingredient  in  the  act  of  perception,  the  process  closely 
resembles  an  act  of  inference  ;  and,  indeed,  Helmholtz 
distinctly  calls  the  perception  of  distance  an  uncon- 

1  Psychological  usage  has  now  pretty  well  substituted  the  term 
“  image  ”  for  “  idea,”  in  order  to  indicate  an  individual(as  distinguished 
from  a  general)  representation  of  a  sensation  or  percept.  It  might, 
perhaps,  be  desirable  to  go  further  in  this  process  of  differentiating 
language,  and  to  distinguish  between  a  sensational  image,  e.g.  the 
representation  of  a  colour,  and  a  perceptional  image,  as  the  represen¬ 
tation  of  a  coloured  object.  It  may  he  well  to  add  that,  in  speaking 
of  a  fusion  of  an  image  and  a  sensation,  I  do  not  mean  that  the  former 
exists  apart  for  a  single  instant.  The  term  “fusion”  is  used  figura¬ 
tively  to  describe  the  union  of  the  two  sides  or  aspects  of  a  complete 
percept. 


PERCEPTION  AS  INTERPRETATION. 


23 


scious  inference  or  a  mechanically  performed  act  of 
judgment. 

I  have  hinted  that  these  recovered  sensations 
include  the  feelings  we  experience  in  connection  with 
muscular  activity,  as  in  moving  our  limbs,  resisting  or 
lifting  heavy  bodies,  and  walking  to  a  distant  object. 
Modern  psychology  refers  the  eye’s  instantaneous 
recognition  of  the  most  important  elements  of  an 
object  (its  essential  or  “  primary  ”  qualities)  to  a  rein¬ 
statement  of  such  simple  experiences  as  these.  It  is, 
indeed,  these  reproductions  which  are  supposed  to  con¬ 
stitute  the  substantial  background  of  our  percepts. 

Another  thing  worth  noting  with  respect  to  this 
process  of  filling  up  a  sense-impression  is  that  it  draws 
on  past  sensations  of  the  eye  itself.  Thus,  when  I 
look  at  the  figure  of  an  acquaintance  from  behind, 
my  reproductive  visual  imagination  supplies  a  repre¬ 
sentation  of  the  impressions  I  am  wont  to  receive 
when  the  more  interesting  aspect  of  the  object,  the 
front  view,  is  present  to  my  visual  sense.1 

We  may  distinguish  between  different  steps  in  the 
full  act  of  visual  recognition.  First  of  all  comes  the 
construction  of  a  material  object  of  a  particular  figure 
and  size,  and  at  a  particular  distance ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  recognition  of  a  tang.ble  thing  having  certain 
simple  space-properties,  and  holding  a  certain  relation 
to  other  objects,  and  more  especially  our  own  body,  in 
space.  This  is  the  bare  perception  of  an  object,  which 
always  takes  place  even  in  the  case  of  perfectly  new 

1  This  impulse  to  fill  in  visual  elements  not  actually  present  is 
strikingly  illustrated  in  people’s  difficulty  in  recognizing  the  gap  in 
the  field  of  vision  answering  to  the  insensitive  “  blind”  spot  ou  the 
retina.  (See  Helmholtz,  Fhgsiologische  Optik ,  p.  573,  et  seq.) 


24 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PEKCEPTION. 


objects,  provided  they  are  seen  with  any  degree  of 
distinctness.  It  is  to  be  added  that  the  reference  of  a 
sensation  of  light  or  colour  to  such  an  object  involves 
the  inclusion  of  a  quality  answering  to  the  sensation, 
as  brightness,  or  blue  colour,  in  the  thing  thus  intuited. 

This  part  of  the  process  of  filling  in,  which  is  the 
most  instantaneous,  automatic,  and  unconscious,  may 
be  supposed  to  answer  to  the  most  constant  and  there¬ 
fore  the  most  deeply  organized  connections  of  ex¬ 
perience  ;  for,  speaking  generally,  we  never  have  an 
impression  of  colour,  except  when  there  are  circum¬ 
stances  present  which  are  fitted  to  yield  us  those 
simple  muscular  and  tactual  experiences  through 
which  the  ideas  of  a  particular  form,  size,  etc.,  are 
pretty  certainly  obtained. 

The  second  step  in  this  process  of  presentative 
construction  is  the  recognition  of  an  object  as  one  of 
a  class  of  things,  for  example,  oranges,  having  certain 
special  qualities,  as  a  particular  taste.  In  this  step  the 
connections  of  experience  are  less  deeply  organized,  and 
so  we  are  able  to  some  extent,  by  reflection,  to  recognize 
it  as  a  kind  of  intellectual  working  up  of  the  materials 
supplied  us  by  the  past.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  this 
process  of  recognition  involves  a  compound  operation 
of  classifying  impressions  as  distinguished  from  that 
simple  operation  by  which  a  single  impression,  such  as 
a  particular  colour,  is  known.  Thus  the  recognition  of 
such  an  object  as  an  orange  takes  place  by  a  rapid 
classing  of  a  multitude  of  passive  sensations  of  colour, 
lio-ht,  and  shade,  and  those  active  or  muscular  sensa- 
tions  which  are  supposed  to  enter  into  the  visual  per- 
ception  of  form. 


PERCEPTION  AS  RECOGNITION. 


25 


A  still  less  automatic  step  in  the  process  of  visual 
recognition  is  that  of  identifying  individual  objects,  as 
Westminster  Abbey,  or  a  friend,  John  Smith.  The 
amount  of  experience  that  is  here  reproduced  may  be 
very  large,  as  in  the  case  of  recognizing  a  person  with 
whom  we  have  had  a  long  and  intimate  acquaintance. 

If  the  recognition  of  an  object  as  one  of  a  class, 
for  example,  an  orange,  involves  a  compound  process 
of  classing  impressions,  that  of  an  individual  object 
involves  a  still  more  complicated  process.  The  identifi¬ 
cation  of  a  friend,  simple  as  this  operation  may  at  first 
appear,  really  takes  place  by  a  rapid  classing  of  all  the 
salient  characteristic  features  which  serve  as  the  visible 
marks  of  that  particular  person. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  each  kind  of  recognition, 
specific  and  individual,  takes  place  by  a  consciousness 
of  likeness  amid  unlikeness.  It  is  obvious  that  a  new 
individual  object  has  characters  not  shared  in  by  other 
objects  previously  inspected.  Thus,  we  at  once  class 
a  man  with  a  dark-brown  skin,  wearing  a  particular 
garb,  as  a  Hindoo,  though  he  may  differ  in  a  host  of 
particulars  from  the  other  Hindoos  that  we  have  ob¬ 
served.  In  thus  instantly  recognizing  him  as  a 
Hindoo,  we  must,  it  is  plain,  attend  to  the  points  of 
similarity,  and  overlook  for  the  instant  the  points  of 
dissimilarity.  In  the  case  of  individual  identification, 
the  same  thing  happens.  Strictly  speaking,  no  object 
ever  appears  exactly  the  same  to  us  on  two  occasions. 
Apart  from  changes  in  the  object  itself,  especially  in  the 
case  of  living  beings,  there  are  varying  effects  of  illumi¬ 
nation,  of  position  in  relation  to  the  eye,  of  distance,  and 
so  on,  which  very  distinctly  affect  the  visual  impression 


26 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


at  different  times.  Yet  the  fact  of  our  instantly  recog¬ 
nizing  a  familiar  object  in  spite  of  these  fluctuations 
of  appearance,  proves  that  we  are  able  to  overlook  a 
very  considerable  amount  of  diversity  when  a  certain 
amount  of  likeness  is  present. 

It  is  further  to  be  observed  that  in  these  last  stages 
of  perception  we  approach  the  boundary  line  between 
perception  and  inference.  To  recognize  an  object  as 
one  of  a  class  is  often  a  matter  of  conscious  reflection 
and  judgment,  even  when  the  class  is  constituted  by 
obvious  material  qualities  which  the  senses  may  be 
supposed  to  apprehend  immediately.  Still  more 
clearly  does  perception  pass  into  inference  when  the 
class  is  constituted  by  less  obvious  qualities,  which 
require  a  careful  and  prolonged  process  of  recollection, 
discrimination,  and  comparison,  for  their  recognition. 
Thus,  to  recognize  a  man  by  certain  marks  of  gesture 
and  manner  as  a  military  man  or  a  Frenchman,  though 
popularly  called  a  perception,  is  much  more  of  an 
unfolded  process  of  conscious  inference.  And  what 
applies  to  specific  recognition  applies  still  more  forcibly 
to  individual  recognition,  which  is  often  a  matter  of 
very  delicate  conscious  comparison  and  judgment.  To 
say  where  the  line  should  be  drawn  here  between  per¬ 
ception  and  observation  on  the  one  hand,  and  inference 
on  the  other,  is  clearly  impossible.  Our  whole  study  of 
the  illusions  of  perception  will  serve  to  show  that  the 
one  shades  off  into  the  other  too  gradually  to  allow  of 
our  drawing  a  hard  and  fast  line  between  them. 

Finally,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  these  last  stages  of 
perception  bring  us  near  the  boundary  line  which 
separates  objective  experience  as  common  and  universal, 


PERCEPTION  AND  INFERENCE 


27 


and  subjective  or  variable  experience  as  confined  to  one 
or  to  a  few.  In  the  bringing  of  the  object  under  a  certain 
class  of  objects  there  is  clearly  room  for  greater  variety 
of  individual  perception.  For  example,  the  ability  to 
recognize  a  man  as  a  Frenchman  turns  on  a  special  kind 
of  previous  experience.  And  this  transition  from  the 
common  or  universal  to  the  individual  experience  is  seen 
yet  more  plainly  in  the  case  of  individual  recognition. 
To  identify  an  object,  say  a  particular  person,  com¬ 
monly  presupposes  some  previous  experience  or  know¬ 
ledge  of  this  object,  and  the  existence  in  the  past  of 
some  special  relation  of  the  recognizer  to  the  recog¬ 
nized,  if  only  that  of  an  observer.  In  fact,  it  is  evident 
that  in  this  mode  of  recognition  we  have  the  transition 
from  common  perception  to  individual  recollection.1 

While  we  may  thus  distinguish  different  steps  in 
the  process  of  visual  recognition,  we  may  make  a 
further  distinction,  marking  off  a  passive  and  an  active 
stage  in  the  process.  The  one  may  be  called  the  stage 
of  preperception,  the  other  that  of  perception  proper.2 
In  the  first  the  mind  holds  itself  in  a  passive 
attitude,  except  in  so  far  as  the  energies  of  external 
attention  are  involved.  The  impression  here  awakens 
the  mental  images  which  answer  to  past  experiences 
according  to  the  well-known  laws  of  association.  The 
interpretative  image  which  is  to  transform  the  irnpres- 

1  This  relation  will  be  more  fully  discussed  under  the  head  of 
“  Memory.” 

2  I  adopt  this  distinction  from  Dr.  J.  Ilugldings  Jackson.  Pee 
his  articles,  “  On  Affections  of  Speech  from  Diseases  of  the  Brain,”  in 
] train,  Nos.  iii.  and  vii.  The  second  stage  might  conveniently  be 
named  apperception,  but  for  the  special  philosophical  associations  of 

the  term. 


28 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


sion  into  a  percept  is  now  being  formed  by  a  mere 
process  of  suggestion. 

When  tbe  image  is  thus  formed,  the  mind  may  be 
said  to  enter  upon  a  more  active  stage,  in  which  it  now 
views  the  impression  through  the  image,  or  applies 
tins  as  a  kind  of  mould  or  framework  to  the  impres¬ 
sion.  This  appears  to  involve  an  intensification  of  the 
mental  image,  transforming  it  from  a  representative 
to  a  presentative  mental  state,  making  it  approxi¬ 
mate  somewhat  to  the  full  intensity  of  the  sensation. 
In  many  of  our  instantaneous  perceptions  these  two 
stages  are  indistinguishable  to  consciousness.  Thus,  in 
most  cases,  the  recognition  of  size,  distance,  etc.,  takes 
place  so  rapidly  that  it  is  impossible  to  detect  the 
two  phases  here  separated.  But  in  the  classification 
of  an  object,  or  the  identification  of  an  individual 
thing,  there  is  often  an  appreciable  interval  between 
the  first  reception  of  the  impression  and  the  final 
stage  of  complete  recognition.  And  here  it  is  easy  to 
distinguish  the  two  stages  of  preperceptiun  and  per¬ 
ception.  The  interpretative  image  is  slowly  built  up 
by  the  operation  of  suggestion,  at  the  close  of  which 
the  impression  is  suddenly  illumined  as  by  a  flash  of 
light,  and  takes  a  definite,  precise  shape. 

Now,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  process  of  preper¬ 
ception  will  be  greatly  aided  by  any  circumstance  that 
facilitates  the  construction  of  the  particular  interpre¬ 
tative  image  required.  Thus,  the  more  frequently  a 
similar  process  of  perception  has  been  performed  in 
the  past,  the  more  ready  will  the  mind  be  to  fall  into 
the  particular  way  of  interpreting  the  impression.  As 
G.  II.  Lewes  well  remarks,  “  The  artist  sees  details 


PKEPERCEPTION. 


29 


where  to  other  eyes  there  is  a  vague  or  confused  mass  ; 
the  naturalist  sees  an  animal  where  the  ordinary  eye 
only  sees  a  form.” 1  This  is  but  one  illustration  of  the 
seemingly  universal  mental  law,  that  what  is  repeatedly 
done  will  be  done  more  and  more  easily. 

The  process  of  preperception  may  be  shortened,  not 
only  by  means  of  a  permanent  disposition  to  frame  the 
required  interpretative  scheme,  the  residuum  of  past 
like  processes,  but  also  by  means  of  any  temporary  dis¬ 
position  pointing  in  the  same  direction.  If,  for 
example,  the  mind  of  a  naturalist  has  just  been  occu¬ 
pied  about  a  certain  class  of  bird,  that  is  to  say,  if  he 
has  been  dwelling  on  the  mental  image  of  this  bird,  lie 
will  recognize  one  at  a  distance  more  quickly  than 
he  would  otherwise  have  done.  Such  a  simple  mental 
operation  as  the  recognition  of  one  of  the  less  common 
flowers,  say  a  particular  orchid,  will  vary-  in  duration 
according  as  we  have  or  have  not  been  recently  forming 
an  image  of  this  flower.  The  obvious  explanation  of 
this  is  that  the  mental  image  of  an  object  bears  a  very 
close  resemblance  to  the  corresponding  percept,  differ¬ 
ing  from  it,  indeed,  in  degree  only,  that  is  to  say, 
through  the  fact  that  it  involves  no  actual  sensation. 
Here  again  we  see  illustrated  a  general  psychological 
law,  namely,  that  what  the  mind  has  recently  done, 
it  tends  (within  certain  limits)  to  go  on  doing. 

It  is  to  be  noticed,  further,  that  the  perception  of  a 
single  object  or  event  is  rarely  an  isolated  act  of  the 
mind.  We  recognize  and  understand  the  things  that 

1  Prollemti  of  Life  and  Mind,  third  series,  p.  107.  This  writer 
employs  the  word  “  preperception  ”  to  denote  this  ..effect  of  previous 
perception. 


30 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


surround  us  through  their  relations  one  to  another. 
Sometimes  the  adjacent  circumstances  and  events 
suggest  a  definite  expectation  of  the  new  impression. 
Thus,  for  example,  the  sound  of  a  gun  heard  during 
a  walk  in  the  country  is  instantly  interpreted  by  help 
of  suggestions  due  to  the  previous  appearance  of  the 
sportsman,  and  the  act  of  raising  the  gun  to  his 
shoulder.  It  may  be  added  that  the  verbal  suggestions 
of  others  act  very  much  like  the  suggestions  of  ex¬ 
ternal  circumstances.  If  I  am  told  that  a  gun  is  going 
to  be  fired,  my  mind  is  prepared  for  it  just  as  though 
I  saw  the  sportsman.1 

More  frequently  the  effect  of  such  surrounding 
circumstances  is  to  give  an  air  of  familiarity  to  the  new 
impression,  to  shorten  the  interval  in  which  the  re¬ 
quired  interpretative  image  is  forthcoming.  Thus, 
when  travelling  in  Italy,  the  visual  impression  answer¬ 
ing  to  a  ruined  temple  or  a  bareheaded  friar  is  con¬ 
strued  much  more  rapidly  than  it  would  be  elseu’here, 
because  of  the  attitude  of  mind  due  to  the  surrounding- 
circumstances.  In  all  such  cases  the  process  of  pre¬ 
perception  connected  with  a  given  impression  is  effected 
more  or  less  completely  by  the  suggestions  of  other 
and  related  impressions. 

It  follows  irom  all  that  has  been  just  said  that  our 
minds  are  never  in  exactly  the  same  state  of  readiness 
with  respect  to  a  particular  process  of  perceptional 
interpretation.  Sometimes  the  meaning  of  an  im¬ 
pression  flashes  on  us  at  once,  and  the  stage  of  pre- 

1  Such  verbal  suggestion,  moreover,  acting  through  a  sense- 
iinpression,  has  something  of  that  vividness  of  effect  which  belongs  to 
all  excitation  of  mental  images  by  external  stimuli. 


PHYSIOLOGY  OF  PERCEPTION. 


31 


perception  becomes  evanescent.  At  other  times  the 
same  impression  will  fail  for  an  appreciable  interval 
to  divulge  its  meaning.  These  differences  are,  no 
doubt,  due  in  part  to  variations  in  the  state  of  attention 
at  the  moment;  but  they  depend  as  well  on  fluctua¬ 
tions  in  the  degree  of  the  mind’s  readiness  to  look  at 
the  impress  on  in  the  required  way. 

In  order  to  complete  this  slight  analysis  of  percep¬ 
tion,  we  must  look  for  a  moment  at  its  physical  side, 
that  is  to  say,  at  the  nervous  actions  which  are  known 
or  supposed  with  some  degree  of  probability  to  accom¬ 
pany  it. 

The  production  of  the  sensation  is  known  to  depend 
on  a  certain  external  process,  namely,  the  action  of 
some  stimulus,  as  light,  on  the  sense-organ,  which 
stimulus  has  its  point  of  departure  in  the  object,  such 
as  it  is  conceived  by  physical  science.  The  sensation 
arises  when  the  nervous  process  is  transmitted  through 
the  nerves  to  the  conscious  centre,  often  spoken  of  as 
the  sensorium,  the  exact  seat  of  which  is  still  a  matter 
of  some  debate. 

The  intensification  of  the  sensation  by  the  reaction 
of  attention  is  supposed  to  depend  on  some  reinforce¬ 
ment  of  the  nervous  excitation  in  the  sensory  centre 
proceeding  from  the  motor  regions,  which  are  hypo¬ 
thetically  regarded  as  the  centre  of  attention.1  The 
classification  of  the  impression,  again,  is  pretty  certainly 
correlated  with  the  physical  fact  that  the  central  ex¬ 
citation  calls  into  activity  elements  which  have  already 
been  excited  in  the  same  wTay. 

The  nervous  counterpart  of  the  final  stage  of  per- 
1  See  Wumlt,  Phyaiologische  Psychologie,  p.  723. 


32 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


ception,  the  synthesis  of  the  sensation  and  the 
mental  representation,  is  not  clearly  ascertained.  A 
sensation  clearly  resembles  a  mental  image  in  quality. 
It  is  most  obviously  marked  off  from  the  image  by  its 
greater  vividness  or  intensity.  Agreeably  to  this  view, 
it  is  now  held  by  a  number  of  eminent  physiologists 
and  psychologists  that  the  nervous  process  underlying 
a  sensation  occupies  the  same  central  region  as  that 
which  underlies  the  corresponding  image.  According 
to  this  theory,  the  two  processes  differ  in  their  degree 
of  energy  only,  this  difference  being  connected  with 
the  fact  that  the  former  involves,  while  the  latter  does 
not  involve,  the  peripheral  region  of  the  nervous 
system.  Accepting  this  view  as  on  the  whole  well 
founded,  I  shall  speak  of  an  ideational,  or  rather  an 
imaginational,  and  a  sensational  nervous  process,  and 
not  of  an  ideational  and  a  sensational  centre.1 

The  special  force  that  belongs  to  the  representative 
element  in  a  percept,  as  compared  with  that  of  a  pure 
“  perceptional  ”  image,2  is  probably  connected  with  the 
fact  that,  in  the  case  of  actual  perception,  the  nervous 
process  underlying  the  act  of  imaginative  construction 
is  organically  united  to  the  initial  sensational  process, 
of  which  indeed  it  may  be  regarded  as  a  continuation. 

For  the  physical  counterpart  of  the  two  stages  in  the 

1  For  a  confirmation  of  the  view  adopted  in  the  text,  see 
Professor  Eain,  The  Senses  and  the  Intellect,  Part  II.  ch.  i.  sec.  8; 
Herbert  Spencer,  Principles  of  Psychology,  vol.  i.  p.  234,  et  passim;  Dr 
Ferrier,  The  Functions  of  the  Brain,  p.  258,  et  seq.  ;  Professor  Wundt, 
op.  cit.,  pp.  644,  64.5 ;  G.  II.  Lewes,  Problems  of  .Life  and  Mind,  vol.  v. 
p.  445,  et  seq.  For  an  opposite  view,  see  Dr.  Carpenter,  Mental 
Physiology,  fourth  edit.,  p.  220,  etc. ;  Dr.  Maudsley,  The  Physiology  of 
Mind,  ch.  v.  p.  250,  etc. 

2  See  note,  p.  22. 


SEAT  OF  SENSATION  AND  IMAGE. 


33 


interpretative  part  of  perception,  distinguished  as  the 
passive  stage  of  preperception,  and  the  active  stage  of 
perception  proper,  we  may,  in  the  absence  of  certain 
knowledge,  fall  back  on  the  hypothesis  put  forward 
by  Dr.  J.  Hughlings  Jackson,  in  the  articles  in  Brain 
already  referred  to,  namely,  that  the  former  answers 
to  an  action  of  the  right  hemisphere  of  the  brain,  the 
latter  to  a  subsequent  action  of  the  left  hemisphere. 
The  expediting  of  the  process  of  preperception  in  those 
cases  where  it  has  frequently  been  performed  before,  is 
clearly  an  illustration  of  the  organic  law  that  every 
function  is  improved  by  exercise.  And  the  temporary 
disposition  to  perform  the  process  due  to  recent  imagi¬ 
native  activity,  is  explained  at  once  on  the  physical  side 
by  the  supposition  that  an  actual  perception  and  a  per¬ 
ceptional  image  involve  the  activity  of  the  same 
nervous  tracts.  For,  assuming  this  to  be  the  case, 
it  follows,  from  a  well-known  organic  law,  that  a 
recent  excitation  would  leave  a  temporary  disposition 
in  these  particular  structures  to  resume  that  particular 
mode  of  activity. 

What  has  here  been  said  about  visual  perception 
will  apply,  mutatis  mutandis,  to  other  kinds.  Although 
the  eye  is  the  organ  of  perception  par  excellence,  our 
other  senses  are  also  avenues  by  which  we  intuit  and 
recognize  objects.  Thus  touch,  especially  when  it  is 
finely  developed  as  it  is  in  the  blind,  gives  an  imme¬ 
diate  knowledge  of  objects — a  more  immediate  know¬ 
ledge,  indeed,  of  their  fundamental  properties  than 
sight.  What  makes  the  eye  so  vastly  superior  to  the 
organ  of  touch  as  an  instrument  of  perception,  is  first 
of  all  the  range  of  its  action,  taking  in  simultaneously 
3 


3-1 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


a  large  number  of  impressions  from  objects  at  a  dis¬ 
tance  as  well  as  near ;  and  secondly,  though  this  may 
seem  paradoxical,  the  fact  that  it  gives  us  so  much 
indirectly,  that  is,  by  way  of  association  and  sugges- 
ion.  This  is  the  interesting  side  of  visual  perception, 
that,  owing  to  the  vast  complex  of  distinguishable 
sensations  of  light  and  colour  of  various  qualities  and 
intensities,  together  with  the  muscular  sensations  at¬ 
tending  the  varying  positions  of  the  organ,  the  eye  is 
able  to  recognize  at  any  instant  a  whole  external  world 
with  its  fundamental  properties  and  relations.  The 
ear  comes  next  to  the  eye  in  this  respect,  but  only 
after  a  long  interval,  since  its  sensations  (even  in  the 
case  of  musical  combinations)  do  not  simultaneously 
order  themselves  in  an  indefinitely  large  group  of  dis¬ 
tinguishable  elements,  and  since  even  the  comparatively 
few  sensations  which  it  is  capable  of  simultaneously 
receiving,  being  altogether  passive — that  is  to  say, 
having  no  muscular  accompaniments  —  impart  but 
little  and  vague  information  respecting  the  external 
order.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  in  the  study  of  illusion, 
where  the  indirectly  known  elements  are  the  thing  to 
be  considered,  the  eye,  and  after  this  the  ear,  will 
mostly  engage  our  attention.1 

1  Touch  gives  much  by  way  of  interpretation  only  when  an 
individual  object,  for  example  a  man’s  hat,  is  recognized  by  aid  of  this 
sense  alone,  in  which  case  the  perception  distinctly  involves  the 
reproduction  of  a  complete  visual  percept.  I  may  add  that  the 
organ  of  smell  comes  next  to  that  of  hearing,  with  respect  both  to 
the  range  and  definiteness  of  its  simultaneous  sensations,  and  to  the 
amount  of  information  furnished  by  these.  A  rough  sense  of  distance 
as  well  as  of  direction  is  clearly  obtainable  by  means  of  this  organ. 
There  seems  to  me  no  reason  why  an  animal  endowed  with  une 
olfactory  sensibility,  and  capable  of  an  analytic  separation  of  sense- 


VISUAL  AND  OTHER  PERCEPTION. 


35 


So  much  it  seemed  needful  to  say  about  the 
mechanism  of  perception,  in  order  to  understand  the 
slight  disturbances  of  this  mechanism  that  manifest 
themselves  in  sense-illusion.  It  may  be  added  that 
our  study  of  these  illusions  will  help  still  further  to 
elucidate  the  exact  nature  of  perception.  Normal 
mental  life,  as  a  whole,  at  once  illustrates,  and  is 
illustrated  by,  abnormal.  And  while  we  need  a  rough 
provisional  theory  of  accurate  perception  in  order  to 
explain  illusory  perception  at  all,  the  investigation  of 
this  latter  cannot  fail  to  verify  and  even  render  more 
complete  the  theory  which  it  thus  temporarily  adopts. 

Illusions  of  Perception. 

With  this  brief  psychological  analysis  of  perception 
to  help  us,  let  us  now  pass  to  the  consideration  of  the 
errors  incident  to  the  process,  with  a  view  to  classify 
them  according  to  their  psychological  nature  and 
origin. 

And  here  there  naturally  arises  the  question,  How 
shall  we  define  an  illusion  of  perception?  When 
trying  to  fix  the  definition  of  illusion  in  general,  I 
practically  disposed  of  this  .question.  Nevertheless,  as 
the  point  appears  to  me  to  be  of  some  importance,  I 
shall  reproduce  and  expand  one  or  two  of  the  con¬ 
siderations  then  brought  forward. 

elements,  should  not  gain  a  rough  perception  of  an  external  order 
much  more  comph  te  than  our  auditory  perception,  which  is  necessarily 
so  fragmentary.  This  supposition  appears,  indeed,  to  be  the  necessary 
complement  to  the  idea  first  broached,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  by 
Professor  Croom  Robertson,  that  to  such  animals,  visual  perception 
consists  in  a  reference  to  a  system  of  muscular  feelings  defined  and 
bounded  by  sttong  olfactory  sensations,  rather  than  by  tactual  sen¬ 
sations  as  in  our  case. 


36 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PEKCEPTION. 


It  is  said  by  certain  philosophers  that  perception, 
as  a  whole,  is  an  illusion,  inasmuch  as  it  involves 
the  fiction  of  a  real  thing  independent  of  mind,  yet 
somehow  present  to  it  in  the  act  of  sense-perception. 
But  this  is  a  question  for  philosophy,  not  for  science. 
Science,  including  psychology,  assumes  that  in  per¬ 
ception  there  is  something  real,  without  inquiring 
what  it  may  consist  of,  or  what  its  meaning  may  be. 
And  though  in  the  foregoing  analysis  of  perception, 
viewed  as  a  complex  mental  phenomenon  or  psychical 
process,  I  have  argued  that  a  percept  gets  its  concrete 
filling  up  out  of  elements  of  conscious  experience  or 
sensations,  I  have  been  careful  not  to  contend  that  the 
particular  elements  of  feeling  thus  represented  are  the 
object  of  perception  or  the  thing  perceived.  It  may 
be  that  what  we  mean  by  a  single  object  with  its 
assemblage  of  qualities  is  much  more  than  any 
number  of  such  sensations ;  and  it  must  be  confessed 
that,  on  the  face  of  it,  it  seems  to  be  much  more. 
And  however  this  be,  the  question,  What  is  meant  by 
object ;  and  is  the  common  persuasion  of  the  existence 
of  such  an  entity  in  the  act  of  perception  accurate  or 
illusory  ?  must  be  handed  over  to  philosophy. 

While  in  the  following  examination  of  sense-illu¬ 
sions  we  put  out  of  sight  what  certain  philosophers 
say  about  the  illusoriness  of  perception  as  a  whole,  we 
shall  also  do  well  to  leave  out  of  account  what  physical 
science  is  sometimes  supposed  to  tell  us  respecting  a 
constant  element  of  illusion  in  perception.  The  phy¬ 
sicist,  by  reducing  all  external  changes  to  “modes  oi 
motion,”  appears  to  leave  no  room  in  his  world- 
mechanism  for  the  secondary  qualities  of  bodies,  such 


ILLUSION  OF  PERCEPTION  DEFINED 


37 


as  light  and  heat,  as  popularly  conceived.  Yet,  while 
allowing  this,  I  think  we  may  still  regard  the  attribu¬ 
tion  of  qualities  like  colour  to  objects  as  in  the  main 
correct  and  answering  to  a  real  fact.  When  a  person 
says  an  object  is  red,  he  is  understood  by  everybody  as 
affirming  something  which  is  true  or  false,  something 
therefore  which  either  involves  an  external  fact  or  is 
illusory.  It  would  involve  an  external  fact  whenever 
the  particular  sensation  which  he  receives  is  the  re¬ 
sult  of  a  physical  action  (ether  vibrations  of  a  certain 
order),  which  would  produce  a  like  sensation  in  any¬ 
body  else  in  the  same  situation  and  endowed  with  the 
normal  retinal  sensibility.  On  the  other  hand,  an 
illusory  attribution  of  colour  would  imply  that  there 
is  no  corresponding  physical  agency  at  work  in  the 
case,  but  that  the  sensation  is  connected  with  excep¬ 
tional  individual  conditions,  as,  for  example,  altered 
retinal  sensibility. 

We  are  now,  perhaps,  in  a  position  to  frame  a  rough 
definition  of  an  illusion  of  perception  as  popularly 
understood.  A  large  number  of  such  phenomena  may 
be  described  as  consisting  in  the  formation  of  percepts 
or  quasi-percepts  in  the  minds  of  individuals  under 
external  circumstances  which  would  not  give  rise  to 
similar  percepts  in  the  case  of  other  people. 

A  little  consideration,  however,  will  show  that  this 
is  not  an  adequate  definition  of  what  is  ordinarily 
understood  by  an  illusion  of  sense.  There  are  special 
circumstances  which  are  fitted  to  excite  a  momentary 
illusion  in  all  minds.  The  optical  illusions  due  to  the 
reflection  and  refraction  of  light  are  not  peculiar  to 
the  individual,  but  arise  in  all  minds  under  precisely 
similar  external  conditions. 


8S 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


It  is  plain  that  the  illusoriness  of  a  perception  is 
in  these  cases  determined  in  relation  to  the  sense- 
impressions  of  other  moments  and  situations,  or  to 
what  are  presumably  better  percepts  than  the  present 
one.  Sometimes  this  involves  an  appeal  from  one 
sense  to  another.  Thus,  there  is  the  process  of  veri¬ 
fication  of  sight  by  touch,  for  example,  in  the  case 
of  optical  images,  a  mode  of  perception  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  gives  a  more  direct  cognition  of  external 
quality.  Conversely,  there  may  occasionally  be  a 
reference  from  touch  to  sight,  when  it  is  a  question 
of  discriminating  two  points  lying  very  close  to  one 
another.  Finally,  the  same  sense  may  correct  itself, 
as  when  the  illusion  of  the  stereoscope  is  corrected  by 
afterwards  looking  at  the  two  separate  pictures. 

We  may  thus  roughly  define  an  illusion  of  percep¬ 
tion  as  consisting  in  the  formation  of  a  quasi-percept 
which  is  peculiar  to  an  individual,  or  w'hich  is  con¬ 
tradicted  by  another  and  presumably  more  accurate 
percept.  Or,  if  we  take  the  meaning  of  the  word 
common  to  include  both  the  universal  as  contrasted 
with  the  individual  experience,  and  the  permanent, 
constant,  or  average,  as  distinguished  from  the  mo¬ 
mentary  and  variable  percept,  we  may  still  briefly 
describe  an  illusion  of  perception  as  a  deviation  from 
the  common  or  collective  experience. 

Sources  of  Sense-Illusion. 

Understanding  sense-illusion  in  this  way,  let  us 
glance  back  at  the  process  of  perception  in  its  several 
stages  or  aspects,  with  the  object  of  discovering  what 
room  occurs  for  illusion. 


HOW  SENSE-ILLUSION  ARISES. 


39 


It  appears  at  first  as  if  the  preliminary  stages — 
the  reception,  discrimination,  and  classification  of  an 
impression — would  not  offer  the  slightest  opening  for 
error.  This  part  of  the  mechanism  of  perception 
seems  to  work  so  regularly  and  so  smoothly  that  one 
can  hardly  conceive  a  fault  in  the  process.  Never¬ 
theless,  a  little  consideration  will  show  that  even  here 
all  does  not  go  on  with  unerring  precision. 

Let  us  suppose  that  the  very  first  step  is  wanting — 
distinct  attention  to  an  impression.  It  is  easy  to  see 
that  this  will  favour  illusion  by  leading  to  a  confusion 
of  the  impression.  Thus  the  timid  man  will  more 
readily  fall  into  the  illusion  of  ghost-seeing  than  a 
cool-headed  observant' man,  because  he  is  less  attentive 
to  the  actual  impression  of  the  moment.  This  in¬ 
attention  to  the  sense-impression  will  be  found  to 
be  a  great  co-operating  factor  in  the  production  of 
illusions. 

But  if  the  sensation  is  properly  attended  to,  can 
there  be  error  through  a  misapprehension  of  what  is 
actually  in  the  mind  at  the  moment  ?  To  say  that 
there  can  may  sound  paradoxical,  and  yet  in  a  sense 
this  is  demonstrable.  I  do  not  mean  that  there  is 
an  observant  mind  behind  and  distinct  from  the 
sensation,  and  failing  to  observe  it  accurately  through 
a  kind  of  mental  short-sightedness.  What  I  mean  is 
that  the  usual  psychical  effect  of  the  incoming  nervous 
process  may  to  some  extent  be  counteracted  by  a 
powerful  reaction  of  the  centres.  In  the  course  of  our 
study  of  illusions,  we  shall  learn  that  it  is  possible 
for  the  quality  of  an  impression,  as,  for  example,  of 
a  sensation  of  colour,  to  be  appreciably  modified 


40 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


when  there  is  a  strong  tendency  to  regard  it  in  one 
particular  way. 

Postponing  the  consideration  of  these,  we  may  say 
that  certain  illusions  appear  clearly  to  take  their  start 
from  an  error  in  the  process  of  classifying  or  identi¬ 
fying  a  present  impression.  On  the  physical  side,  we 
may  say  that  the  first  stages  of  the  nervous  process, 
the  due  excitation  of  the  sensory  centre  in  accordance 
with  the  form  of  the  incoming  stimulation  and  the 
central  reaction  involved  in  the  recognition  of  the 
sensation,  are  incomplete.  These  are  so  limited  and 
comparatively  unimportant  a  class,  that  it  will  be 
well  to  dispose  of  them  at  once. 

Confusion  of  the  Sense-Impression. 

The  most  interesting  case  of  such  an  error  is  where 
the  impi’ession  is  unfamiliar  and  novel  in  character. 
I  have  already  remarked  that  in  the  mental  life  of 
the  adult  perfectly  new  sensations  never  occur.  At 
the  same  time,  comparatively  novel  impressions  some¬ 
times  arise.  Parts  of  the  sensitive  surface  of  the  body 
which  rarely  undergo  stimulation  are  sometimes  acted 
on,  and  at  other  times  they  receive  partially  new 
modes  of  stimulation.  In  such  cases  it  is  plain  that 
the  process  of  classing  the  sensation  or  recognizing 
it  is  not  completed.  It  is  found  that  whenever  this 
happens  there  is  a  tendency  to  exaggerate  the  intensity 
of  the  sensation.  The  very  fact  of  unfamiliarity  seems 
to  give  to  the  sensation  a  certain  exciting  character. 
As  something  new  and  strange,  it  for  the  instant 
slightly  agitates  and  discomposes  the  mind.  Being 
unable  to  classify  it  with  its  like,  we  naturally  magnify 


NOVEL  SENSE-IMPEESSIONS. 


41 


its  intensity,  and  so  tend  to  ascribe  it  to  a  dispro¬ 
portionately  large  cause. 

For  instance,  a  light  bandage  worn  about  the  body 
at  a  part  usually  free  from  pressure  is  liable  to  be 
conceived  as  a  weighty  mass.  The  odd  sense  of  a 
big  cavity  in  the  mouth,  which  we  experience  just 
after  the  loss  of  a  tooth,  is  probably  another  illus¬ 
tration  of  this  principle.  And  a  third  example  may 
also  be  supplied  from  the  recollection  of  the  dentist’s 
patient,  namely,  the  absurd  imagination  which  he 
tends  to  form  as  to  what  is  actually  going  on  in  his 
mouth  when  a  tooth  is  being  bored  by  a  modern 
rotating  drill.  It  may  be  found  that  the  same  prin¬ 
ciple  helps  to  account  for  the  exaggerated  importance 
which  we  attach  to  the  impressions  of  our  dreams. 

It  is  evident  that  all  indistinct  impressions  are 
liable  to  be  wrongly  classed.  Sensations  answering  to 
a  given  colour  or  form,  are,  when  faint,  easily  confused 
with  other  sensations,  and  so  an  opening  occurs  for 
illusion.  Thus,  the  impressions  received  from  distant 
objects  are  frequently  misinterpreted,  and,  as  we  shall 
see  by-and-by,  it  is  in  this  region  of  hazy  impression 
that  imagination  is  wont  to  play  its  most  startling 
pranks. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  illusions  arising  from 
wrong  classification  will  be  more  frequent  in  the  case 
of  those  senses  where  discrimination  is  low.  Thus,  it 
is  much  easier  in  a  general  way  to  confuse  two 
sensations  of  smell  than  two  sensations  of  colour. 
Hence  the  great  source  of  such  errors  is  to  be  found 
in  that  mass  of  obscure  sensation  which  is  connected 
with  the  organic  processes,  as  digestion,  respiration,  etc., 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


42 

together  with  those  varying  tactual  and  motor  feelings 
which  result  from  what  is  called  the  subjective  stimu¬ 
lation  of  the  tactual  nerves,  and  from  changes  in  the 
position  and  condition  of  the  muscles.  Lying  com¬ 
monly  in  what  is  known  as  the  sub-conscious  region 
of  mind,  undiscriminated,  vague,  and  ill-defined,  these 
sensations,  when  they  come  to  be  specially  attended  to, 
readily  get  misapprehended,  and  so  lead  to  illusion, 
both  in  waking  life  and  in  sleep.  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  illustrate  this  later  on. 

With  these  sensations,  the  result  of  stimulations 
coming  from  remote  parts  of  the  organism,  may  be 
classed  the  ocular  impressions  which  we  receive  in 
indirect  vision.  W7hen  the  eye  is  not  fixed  on  an 
object,  the  impression,  involving  the  activity  of  some 
peripheral  region  of  the  retina,  is  comparatively  indis¬ 
tinct.  This  will  be  much  more  the  case  when  the  object 
lies  at  a  distance  for  which  the  eye  is  not  at  the  time 
accommodated.  And  in  these  circumstances,  when  we 
happen  to  turn  our  attention  to  the  impression,  we 
easily  misapprehend  it,  and  so  fall  into  illusion.  Thus, 
it  has  been  remarked  by  Sir  David  Brewster,  in  his 
Letters  on  Natural  Magic  (letter  vii.),  that  when  looking 
through  a  window  at  some  object  beyond,  we  easily 
suppose  a  fly  on  the  window-pane  to  be  a  larger  object, 
as  a  bird,  at  a  greater  distance.1 

1  It  may  be  said,  perhaps,  that  the  exceptional  direction  of  attention, 
by  giving  an  unusual  intensity  to  the  impression,  causes  us  to  exagge¬ 
rate  it  just  as  in  the  case  of  a  novel  sensation.  An  effort  of  attention 
directed  to  any  of  our  vague  bodily  sensations  easily  leads  us  to 
magnify  its  cause.  A  similar  confusion  may  arise  even  in  direct 
vision,  when  the  objects  are  looked  at  in  a  dim  light,  through  a  want 
of  proper  accommodation.  (See  Sir  D.  Brewster,  op.  cit .,  letter  i.) 


I NTD 1 STINCT  SENSE-IMt  RESSIONS. 


43 


While  these  cases  of  a  confusion  or  a  wrong  classi¬ 
fication  of  the  sensation  are  pretty  well  made  out,  there 
are  other  illusions  or  quasi-illusions  respecting  which 
it  is  doubtful  whether  they  should  be  brought  under 
this  head.  For  example,  it  was  found  by  Weber, 
that  when  the  legs  of  a  pair  of  compasses  are  at  a 
certain  small  distance  apart  they  will  be  felt  as  two 
by  some  parts  of  the  tactual  surface  of  the  body,  but 
only  as  one  by  other  parts.  How  are  we  to  regard 
this  discrepancy  ?  M ust  we  say  that  in  the  latter  case 
there  are  two  sensations,  only  that,  being  so  similar, 
they  are  confused  one  with  another  ?  There  seems 
some  reason  for  so  doing,  in  the  fact  that,  by  a  re¬ 
peated  exercise  of  attention  to  the  experiment,  they 
may  afterwards  be  recognized  as  two. 

We  here  come  on  the  puzzling  question,  How  much 
in  the  character  of  the  sensation  must  be  regarded 
as  the  necessary  result  of  the  particular  mode  of  nervous 
stimulation  at  the  moment,  together  with  the  laws  of 
sensibility,  and  how  much  must  be  put  down  to  the 
reaction  of  the  mind  in  the  shape  of  attention  and 
discrimination?  For  our  present  purpose  we  may  say 
that,  whenever  a  deliberate  effort  of  attention  does 
not  suffice  to  alter  the  character  of  a  sensation,  this 
may  be  pretty  safely  regarded  as  a  net  result  of  the 
nervous  process,  and  any  error  arising  may  be  referred 
to  the  later  stages  of  the  process  of  perception.  Thus, 
for  example,  the  taking  of  the  two  points  of  a  pair  of 
compasses  for  one,  where  the  closest  attention  does  not 
discover  the  error,  is  best  regarded  as  arising,  not  from 
a  confusion  of  the  sense-impression,  but  from  a  wrong 
interpretation  of  a  sensation,  occasioned  by  an  over- 


44 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


looking  of  the  limits  of  local  discriminative  sensi¬ 
bility. 

Misinterpretation  of  the  Sense-Impression. 

Enough  has  been  said,  perhaps,  about  those  errors 
of  perception  which  have  their  root  in  the  initial  pro¬ 
cess  of  sensation.  We  may  now  pass  to  the  far  more 
important  class  of  illusions  which  are  related  to  the  later 
stages  of  perception,  that  is  to  say,  the  process  of  inter¬ 
preting  the  sense-impression.  Speaking  generally,  one 
may  describe  an  illusion  of  perception  as  a  misinter¬ 
pretation.  The  wrong  kind  of  interpretative  mental 
image  gets  combined  with  the  impression,  or,  if  with 
Helmholtz  we  regard  perception  as  a  process  of  “  un¬ 
conscious  inference,”  we  may  say  that  these  illusions 
involve  an  unconscious  fallacious  conclusion.  Or, 
looking  at  the  physical  side  of  the  operation,  it  may 
be  said  that  the  central  course  taken  by  the  nervous 
process  does  not  correspond  to  the  external  relations 
of  the  moment. 

As  soon  as  we  inspect  these  illusions  of  inter¬ 
pretation,  we  see  that  they  fall  into  two  divisions, 
according  as  they  are  connected  with  the  process  of 
suggestion,  that  is  to  say,  the  formation  of  the  inter¬ 
pretative  image  so  far  as  determined  by  links  of 
association  with  the  actual  impression,  or  with  an  in¬ 
dependent  process  of  preperception  as  explained  above. 
Thus,  for  example,  we  fall  into  the  illusion  of  hearing 
two  voices  when  our  shout  is  echoed  back,  just  because 
the  second  auditory  impression  irresistibly  calls  up 
the  image  of  a  second  shouter.  On  the  other  hand,  a 
man  experiences  the  illusion  of  seeing  spectres  of 


PASSIVE  AND  ACTIVE  ILLUSIONS. 


45 


familiar  objects  just  after  exciting  his  imagination 
over  a  ghost-story,  because  the  mind  is  strongly  pre¬ 
disposed  to  frame  this  kind  of  percept.  The  first 
class  of  illusions  arises  from  without,  the  sense-im¬ 
pression  being  the  starting-point,  and  the  process  of 
preperception  being  controlled  by  this.  The  second 
class  arises  rather  from  within,  from  an  independent  or 
spontaneous  activity  of  the  imagination.  In  the  one 
case  the  mind  is  comparatively  passive ;  in  the  other 
it  is  active,  energetically  reacting  on  the  impression, 
and  impatiently  anticipating  the  result  of  the  normal 
process  of  preperception.  Hence  I  shall,  for  brevity’s 
sake,  commonly  speak  of  them  as  Passive  and  Active 
Illusions.1 

I  may,  perhaps,  illustrate  these  two  classes  of  illusion 
by  the  simile  of  an  interpreter  poring  over  an  old 
manuscript.  The  first  would  be  due  to  some 
peculiarity  in  the  document  misleading  his  judgment, 
the  second  to  some  caprice  or  preconceived  notion  in 
the  interpreter’s  mind. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  define  conjecturally  the 
physiological  conditions  of  these  two  large  classes  of 
illusion.  On  the  physical  side,  an  illusion  of  sense, 
like  a  just  perception,  is  the  result  of  a  fusion  of  the 
nervous  process  answering  to  a  sensation  with  a 
nervous  process  answering  to  a  mental  image.  In 
the  case  of  passive  illusions,  this  fusion  may  be  said 
to  take  place  in  consequence  of  some  point  of  con¬ 
nection  between  the  two.  The  existence  of  such  a 
connection  appears  to  be  involved  in  the  very  fact  of 

'  They  might  also  be  distinguished  as  objective  and  subjective 
illusions,  or  as  illusions  a  ‘posteriori  and  illusions  a  priori. 


46 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


suggestion,  and  may  be  said  to  be  the  organic  result 
of  frequent  conjunctions  of  the  two  parts  of  the  nervous 
operation  in  our  past  history.  In  the  case  of  active 
illusions,  however,  which  spring  rather  from  the  in¬ 
dependent  energy  of  a  particular  mode  of  the 
imagination,  this  point  of  organic  connection  is  not 
the  only  or  even  the  main  thing.  In  many  cases,  as 
we  shall  see,  there  is  only  a  faint  shade  of  resem¬ 
blance  between  the  present  impression  and  the  mental 
image  with  which  it  is  overlaid.  The  illusions  de¬ 
pendent  on  vivid  expectation  thus  answer  much  less 
to  an  objective  conjunction  of  past  experiences  than  to 
a  capricious  subjective  conjunction  of  mental  images. 
Here,  then,  the  fusion  of  nervous  processes  must  have 
another  cause.  And  it  is  not  difficult  to  assign  such  a 
cause.  The  antecedent  activity  of  imagination  doubt¬ 
less  involves  as  its  organic  result  a  powerful  temporary 
disposition  in  the  nervous  structures  concerned  to  go  on 
acting.  In  other  words,  they  remain  in  a  state  of  sub¬ 
excitation,  which  can  be  raised  to  full  excitation  by  a 
slight  additional  force.  The  more  powerful  this  dis¬ 
position  in  the  centres  involved  in  the  act  of  imagina¬ 
tion,  the  less  the  additional  force  of  external  stimulus 
required  to  excite  them  to  full  activity. 

Considering  the  first  division,  passive  illusions,  a 
little  further,  we  shall  see  that  they  may  be  broken 
up  into  two  sub-classes,  according  to  the  causes  of  the 
errors.  In  a  general  way  we  assume  that  the  impression 
always  answers  to  some  quality  of  the  object  which 
is  perceived,  and  varies  with  this ;  that,  for  example,  our 
sensation  of  colour  invariably  represents  the  quality 
of  external  colour  which  we  attribute  to  the  object. 


CONDITIONS  OF  PASSIVE  ILLUSION. 


47 


Or,  to  express  it  physically,  we  assume  that  the  ex¬ 
ternal  force  acting  on  the  sense-organ  invariably 
produces  the  same  effect,  and  that  the  effect  always 
varies  with  the  external  cause.  But  this  assumption, 
though  true  in  the  main,  is  not  perfectly  correct.  It 
supposes  that  the  organic  conditions  are  constant,  and 
that  the  organic  process  faithfully  reflects  the  external 
operation.  Neither  of  these  suppositions  is  strictly 
true.  Although  in  general  we  may  abstract  from  the 
organism  and  view  the  relation  between  the  external 
fact  and  the  mental  impression  as  direct,  we  cannot 
always  do  so. 

This  being  so,  it  is  possible  for  errors  of  perception 
to  arise  through  peculiarities  of  the  nervous  organi¬ 
zation  itself.  Thus,  as  I  have  just  observed,  sensibility 
has  its  limits,  and  these  limits  are  the  starting-point 
in  a  certain  class  of  widely  shared  or  common  illusions. 
An  example  of  this  variety  is  the  taking  of  the  two 
points  of  a  pair  of  compasses  for  one  by  the  hand, 
already  referred  to.  Again,  the  condition  of  the  ner¬ 
vous  structures  varies  indefinitely,  so  that  one  and  the 
same  stimulus  may,  in  the  case  of  two  individuals,  or 
of  the  same  individual  at  different  times,  produce 
widely  unlike  modes  of  sensation.  Such  variations 
are  clearly  fitted  to  lead  to  gross  individual  errors  as 
to  the  external  cause  of  the  sensation.  Of  this  sort 
is  the  illusory  sense  of  temperature  which  we  often 
experience  through  a  special  state  of  the  organ  em¬ 
ployed. 

While  there  are  these  errors  of  interpretation  due 
to  some  peculiarity  of  the  organization,  there  are 
others  which  involve  no  such  peculiarity,  but  arise 


48 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


through  the  special  character  or  exceptional  confor¬ 
mation  of  the  environment  at  the  moment.  Of  this 
order  are  the  illusions  connected  with  the  reflection  of 
light  and  sound.  We  may,  perhaps,  distinguish  the 
rirst  sub-class  as  organically  conditioned  illusions,  and 
the  second  as  extra-organically  determined  illusions. 
It  may  be  added  that  the  latter  are  roughly  describable 
as  common  illusions.  They  thus  answer  in  a  measure 
to  the  first  variety  of  organically  conditioned  illusions, 
namely,  those  connected  with  the  limits  of  sensibility. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  active  illusions,  being  es¬ 
sentially  individual  or  subjective,  may  be  said  to 
correspond  to  the  other  variety  of  this  class — those 
connected  with  variations  of  sensibility. 

Our  scheme  of  sense-illusions  is  now  complete. 
First  of  all,  we  shall  take  up  the  passive  illusions, 
beginning  with  those  which  are  conditioned  by  special 
circumstances  in  the  organism.  After  that  we  shall 
illustrate  those  which  depend  on  peculiar  circumstances 
in  the  environment.  And  finally,  we  shall  separately 
consider  w'hat  I  have  called  the  active  illusions  of 
sense. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  these  illusions  of  per¬ 
ception  properly  so  called,  namely,  the  errors  arising 
from  a  wrong  interpretation  of  an  impression,  and, 
not  from  a  confusion  of  one  impression  with  another 
are  chiefly  illustrated  in  the  region  of  the  two  higher 
senses,  sight  and  hearing.  For  it  is  here,  as  we 
have  seen,  that  the  interpretative  imagination  has 
most  work  to  do  in  evolving  complete  percepts  of 
material,  tangible  objects,  having  certain  relations  in 
space,  out  of  a  limited  and  homogeneous  class  of 


SCHEME  OF  SENSE  ILLUSIONS. 


49 


sensations,  namely,  those  of  light  and  colour,  and  of 
sound.  As  I  have  before  observed,  tactual  perception, 
in  so  far  as  it  is  the  recognition  of  an  object  of  a  certain 
size,  hardness,  and  distance  from  our  body,  involves  the 
least  degree  of  interpretation,  and  so  offers  little  room 
lor  error ;  it  is  only  when  tactual  perception  amounts  to 
the  recognition  of  an  individual  object,  clothed  with 
secondary  as  well  as  primary  qualities,  that  an  opening 
for  palpable  error  occurs. 

With  respect,  however,  to  the  first  sub-class  of 
these  illusions,  namely,  those  arising  from  organic 
peculiarities  which  give  a  twist,  so  to  speak,  to  the 
sensation,  no  very  marked  contrast  between  the 
different  senses  presents  itself.  So  that  in  illustrating 
this  group  we  shall  be  pretty  equally  concerned  with 
the  various  modes  of  perception  connected  with  the 
different  senses. 

It  may  be  said  once  for  all  that  in  thus  marking 
off  from  one  another  certain  groups  of  illusion,  I  am 
not  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  these  divisions  answer 
to  no  very  sharp  natural  distinctions.  In  fact,  it  will 
be  found  that  one  class  gradually  passes  into  the  other, 
and  that  the  different  characteristics  here  separated 
often  combine  in  a  most  perplexing  way.  All  that  is 
claimed  for  this  classification  is  that  it  is  a  convenient 
mode  of  mapping  out  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ILLUSIONS  OF  PEECEPTION—  continued. 

A.  Passive  Illusions  (a)  as  determined  by  the  Organism. 

In  dealing  with  the  illusions  which  are  related  to 
certain  peculiarities  in  the  nervous  organism  and  the 
laws  of  sensibility,  I  shall  commence  with  those  which 
are  connected  with  certain  limits  of  sensibility. 

Limits  of  Sensibility. 

To  begin  with,  it  is  known  that  the  sensation  does 
not  always  answer  to  the  external  stimulus  in  its  degree 
or  intensity.  Thus,  a  certain  amount  of  stimulation 
is  necessary  before  any  sensation  arises.  And  this  will, 
of  course,  be  greater  when  there  is  little  or  no  attention 
directed  to  the  impression,  that  is  to  say,  no  co-opera¬ 
ting  central  reaction.  Thus  it  happens  that  slight 
stimuli  go  overlooked,  and  here  illusion  may  have  its 
starting-point.  The  most  familiar  example  of  such 
slight  errors  is  that  of  movement.  When  we  are  look¬ 
ing  at  objects,  our  ocular  muscles  are  apt  to  execute 
v  ery  slight  movements  which  escape  our  notice.  Hence 
we  tend,  under  certain  circumstances,  to  carry  over  the 
retinal  result  of  the  movement,  that  is  to  say,  the  im- 


RELATION  OF  STIMULUS  TO  SENSATION.  51 


pression  produced  by  a  shifting  of  the  parts  of  the  retinal 
image  to  new  nervous  elements,  to  the  object  itself, 
and  so  to  transform  a  “subjective”  into  an  “objective” 
movement.  In  a  very  interesting  work  on  apparent  or 
illusory  movements,  Professor  Hoppe  has  fully  investi¬ 
gated  the  facts  of  such  slight  movements,  and  endea¬ 
voured  to  specify  their  causes.1 

Again,  even  when  the  stimulus  is  sufficient  to  pro¬ 
duce  a  conscious  impression,  the  degree  of  the  feeling 
may  not  represent  the  degree  of  the  stimulus.  To 
take  a  very  inconspicuous  case,  it  is  found  by  Feckner 
that  a  given  increase  of  force  in  the  stimulus  produces 
a  less  amount  of  difference  in  the  resulting  sensations 
when  the  original  stimulus  is  a  powerful  one  than 
when  it  is  a  feeble  one.  It  follows  from  this,  that 
differences  in  the  degree  of  our  sensations  do  not 
exactly  correspond  to  objective  differences.  For 
example,  we  tend  to  magnify  the  differences  of  light 
among  objects,  all  of  which  are  feebly  illuminated,  that 
is  to  say,  to  see  them  much  more  removed  from  one 
another  in  point  of  brightness  than  when  they  are 
more  strongly  illuminated.  Helmholtz  relates  that, 
owing  to  this  tendency,  he  has  occasionally  caught 
himself,  on  a  dark  night,  entertaining  the  illusion  that 

1  Die  Schein-Bewrgungen,  von  Professor  Dr.  J.  I.  Hoppe  (1879) ; 
cf.  an  ingenious  ai  tide  on  “  Optical  Illusions  of  Motion,”  by  Professor 
Silvanus  P.  Thompson,  in  Brain ,  October,  1880.  These  illusions  fre¬ 
quently  involve  the  co-operation  of  some  preconception  or  expectation. 
For  example,  the  apparent  movement  of  a  train  when  we  are  watching 
it  and  expecting  it  to  move,  involves  both  an  element  of  sense- 
impression  and  of  imagination.  It  is  possible  that  the  illusion  of 
table-turning  rests  on  the  same  basis,  the  table-turner  being  unaware 
of  the  fact  of  exertiug  a  certain  amount  of  muscular  force,  and  vividly 
expecting  a  movement  of  the  object. 


52 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


the  comparatively  bright  objects  visible  in  twilight 
were  self-luminous.1 

Again,  there  are  limits  to  the  conscious  separation 
of  sensations  which  are  received  together,  and  this  fact 
gives  rise  to  illusion.  In  general,  the  number  of 
distinguishable  sensations  answers  to  the  number  of 
external  causes ;  but  this  is  not  always  the  case,  and 
here  we  naturally  fall  into  the  error  of  mistaking  the 
number  of  the  stimuli.  Reference  has  already  been 
made  to  this  fact  in  connection  with  the  question 
whether  consciousness  can  be  mistaken  as  to  the 
character  of  a  present  feeling. 

The  case  of  confusing  two  impressions  when  the 
sensory  fibres  involved  are  very  near  one  another,  has 
already  been  alluded  to.  Both  in  touch  and  in  sight 
we  always  take  two  or  more  points  for  one  when  they 
are  only  separated  by  an  interval  that  falls  below  the 
limits  of  local  discrimination.  It  seems  to  follow 
from  this  that  our  perception  of  the  world  as  a  con¬ 
tinuum,  made  up  of  points  perfectly  continuous  one 
with  another  may,  for  what  we  know,  be  illusory. 
Supposing  the  universe  to  consist  of  atoms  separated 
by  very  fine  intervals,  then  it  is  demonstrable  that  it 
would  appear  to  our  sensibility  as  a  continuum,  just  as 
it  does  now.2 

Two  or  more  simultaneous  sensations  are  indis- 

1  Physiologifche  Optilc ,  p.  316. 

2  It  is  plain  that  this  supposed  error  could  only  he  brought  under 
our  definition  of  illusion  by  extending  the  latter,  so  as  to  include 
sense-perceptions  which  are  contradicted  by  reason  employing  idealized 
elements  of  sense-impression,  which,  as  Lewes  has  shown  ( Problems  of 
Life  and  Mind,  i.  p.  2C0),  make  up  the  “extra-sensible  world”  of 
science. 


COALESCENCE  OF  SENSATIONS. 


53 


tinguishable  from  one  another,  not  only  when  they 
have  nearly  the  same  local  origin,  but  under  other 
circumstances.  The  blending  of  partial  sensations  of 
tone  in  a  ZtZaw^-sensation,  and  the  coalescence  in  certain 
cases  of  the  impressions  received  by  way  of  the  two 
retinas,  are  examples  of  this.  It  is  not  quite  cer¬ 
tain  what  determines  this  fusion  of  two  simultaneous 
feelings.  It  may  be  said  generally  that  it  is  favoured 
by  similarity  between  the  sensations ; 1  by  a  compara¬ 
tive  feebleness  of  one  of  the  feelings ;  by  the  fact  of 
habitual  concomitance,  the  two  sensations  occurring 
rarely,  if  ever,  in  isolation ;  and  by  the  presence  of  a 
mental  disposition  to  view  them  as  answering  to  one 
external  object.  These  considerations  help  us  to  ex¬ 
plain  the  coalescence  of  the  retinal  impressions  and  its 
limits,  the  fusion  of  partial  tones,  and  so  on.2 

It  is  plain  that  this  fusion  of  sensations,  whatever 
its  exact  conditions  may  be,  gives  rise  to  error  or 
w  rong  interpretation  of  the  sense-impression.  Thus,  to 
take  the  points  of  two  legs  of  a  pair  of  compasses  for 
one  point  is  clearly  an  illusion  of  perception.  Here 
is  another  and  less  familiar  example.  Very  cold  and 
smooth  surfaces,  as  those  of  metal,  often  appear  to  be 
wet.  I  never  feel  sure,  after  wiping  the  blades  of  my 
skates,  that  they  are  perfectly  dry,  since  they  always 

1  An  ingenious  writer,  M.  Binet,  has  tried  to  prove  that  the  fusion 
of  homogeneous  sensations,  having  little  difference  of  local  colour,  is 
an  illustration  of  this  principle.  (See  the  llevue  Fhilosophique, 
September,  1880.) 

2  Even  the  fusion  of  elementary  sensations  of  colour,  on  the 
hypothesis  of  Young  and  Helmholtz,  in  a  seemingly  simple  sensation 
may  be  explained  to  some  extent  by  these  circumstances,  more  espe¬ 
cially  the  identity  of  local  interpretation. 


54 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


seem  more  or  less  clamp  to  my  hand.  What  is  the 
reason  of  this?  Helmholtz  explains  the  phenomenon 
by  saying  that  the  feeling  we  call  by  the  name  oi 
wetness  is  a  compound  sensation  consisting  of  one  of 
temperature  and  one  of  touch  proper.  These  sen¬ 
sations  occurring  together  so  frequently,  blend  into 
one,  and  so  we  infer,  according  to  the  general  instinc¬ 
tive  tendency  already  noticed,  that  there  is  one 
specific  quality  answering  to  the  feeling.  And  since 
the  feeling  is  nearly  always  produced  by  surfaces 
moistened  by  cold  liquid,  we  refer  it  to  this  circum¬ 
stance,  and  speak  of  it  as  a  feeling  of  wetness.  Hence, 
when  the  particular  conjunction  of  sensations  arises 
apart  from  this  external  circumstance,  we  erroneously 
infer  its  presence.1 

The  most  interesting  case  of  illusion  connected 
with  the  fusion  of  simultaneous  sensations  is  that  of 
single  vision,  or  the  deeply  organized  habit  of  com¬ 
bining  the  sensations  of  what  are  called  the  corre¬ 
sponding  points  of  the  two  retinas.  This  coalescence 
of  two  sensations  is  so  far  erroneous  since  it  makes  us 
overlook  the  existence  of  two  distinct  external  agencies 
acting  on  different  parts  of  the  sensitive  surface  of  the 
body.  And  this  is  the  more  striking  in  the  case  of 


1  The  perception  of  lustre  as  a  single  quality  seems  to  illustrate 
a  like  error.  There  is  good  reason  to  suppose  that  this  impression 
arises  through  a  difference  of  brightness  in  the  two  retinal  images 
due  to  the  regularly  reflected  light.  And  so  when  this  inequality 
of  retinal  impression  is  imitated,  as  it  may  easily  be  by  combining  a 
black  and  a  white  surface  in  a  stereoscope,  we  imagine  that  we  are 
looking  at  one  lustrous  surface.  (See  Helmholtz,  Physiologische 
Optik ,  p.  782,  etc.,  and  Populiire  wissenschaftliche  Vortrcige,  2tes  Heft, 

p.  80.) 


AFTEK-SENSATION. 


55 


looking  at  solid  objects,  since  here  it  is  demonstrable 
that  the  forces  acting  on  the  two  retinas  are  not 
perfectly  similar.  Nevertheless,  such  a  coalescence 
plainly  answers  to  the  fact  that  these  external  agencies 
usually  arise  in  one  and  the  same  object,  and  this  unity 
of  the  object  is,  of  course,  the  all-important  thing  to 
be  sure  of. 

This  habit  may,  however,  beget  palpable  illusion 
in  another  way.  In  certain  exceptional  cases  the 
coalescence  does  not  take  place,  as  when  I  look  at  a 
distant  object  and  hold  a  pencil  just  before  my  eyes.1 
And  in  this  case  the  organized  tendency  to  take  one 
visual  impression  for  one  object  asserts  its  force,  and  I 
tend  to  fall  into  the  illusion  of  seeing  two  separate 
pencils.  If  I  do  not  wholly  lapse  into  the  error,  it  is 
because  my  experience  has  made  me  vaguely  aware 
that  double  images  under  these  circumstances  answer 
to  one  object,  and  that  if  there  were  really  two  pencils 
present  I  should  have  four  visual  impressions. 

Once  more,  it  is  a  law  of  sensory  stimulation  that 
an  impression  persists  for  an  appreciable  time  after 
the  cessation  of  the  action  of  the  stimulus.  This 
“  after  sensation  ”  will  clearly  lead  to  illusion,  in  so  far 
as  we  tend  to  think  of  the  stimulus  as  still  at  work. 
It  forms,  indeed,  as  will  be  seen  by-and-by,  the 
simplest  and  lowest  stage  of  hallucination.  Some¬ 
times  this  becomes  the  first  stage  of  a  palpable  error. 
After  listening  to  a  child  crying  for  some  time  the  ear 

1  The  condilions  of  tho  production  of  these  double  images  have 
been  accurately  determined  by  Helmholtz,  who  shows  that  the 
coalescence  of  impressions  takes  place  whenever  the  object  is  so 
situated  in  the  field  of  vision  as  to  make  it  practically  necessary  that 
it  should  be  recognized  as  one. 


5(5 


ILLUSIONS  OP  PERCEPTION. 


easily  deceives  itself  into  supposing  that  the  noise  is 
continued  when  it  has  actually  ceased.  Again,  after 
taking  a  bandage  from  a  finger,  the  tingling  and 
other  sensations  due  to  the  pressure  sometimes  per¬ 
sist  for  a  good  time,  in  which  case  they  easily  give 
rise  to  an  illusion  that  the  finger  is  still  bound. 

It  follows  from  this  fact  of  the  reverberation  of  the 
nervous  structures  after  the  removal  of  a  stimulus,  that 
whenever  two  discontinuous  stimulations  follow  one 
another  rapidly  enough,  they  will  appear  continuous. 
This  fact  is  a  fruitful  source  of  optical  illusion.  The 
appearance  of  a  blending  of  the  stripes  of  colouis 
on  a  rotating  disc  or  top,  of  the  formation  of  a  ring  of 
light  by  swinging  round  a  piece  of  burning  wood,  and 
the  illusion  of  the  toy  known  as  the  thaumatrope,  or 
wheel  of  life,  all  depend  on  this  persistence  of  retinal 
impression.  Many  of  the  startling  effects  of  sleight  of 
hand  are  undoubtedly  due  in  part  to  this  principle. 
If  two  successive  actions  or  sets  of  circumstances  to 
which  the  attention  of  the  spectator  is  specially  directed 
follow  one  another  by  a  very  narrow  interval  of  time, 
they  easily  appear  continuous,  so  that  there  seems 
absolutely  no  time  for  the  introduction  of.  an  inter¬ 
mediate  step.1 

There  is  another  limit  to  sensil'ility  which  is  in  a 
manner  the  opposite  to  the  one  just  named.  It  is  a 


1  These  illusions  are,  of  course,  due  in  part  to  inattention,  since 
close  critical  scrutiny  is  often  sufficient  to  dispel  them.  They  are 
also  largely  promoted  by  a  preconception  that  the  event  is  going  to 
happen  in  a  particular  way.  But  of  this  more  further  on.  I  may  add 
that  the  late  Professor  Clifford  has  argued  ingeniously  against  the 
idea  of  the  world  being  a  continuum,  by  extending  this  idea  of  the 
wheel  of  life.  (See  Ltctares  and  Essays,  i.  p.  112,  et  seq.) 


PROLONGED  STIMULATION. 


57 


law  of  nervous  stimulation  that  a  continued  activity  of 
any  structure  results  in  less  and  less  psychic  result, 
and  that  when  a  stimulus  is  always  at  work  it  ceases 
in  time  to  have  any  appreciable  effect.  The  common 
illustration  of  this  law  is  drawn  from  the  region  of 
sound.  A  constant  noise,  as  of  a  mill,  ceases  to  pro¬ 
duce  any  conscious  sensation.  This  fact,  it  is  plain, 
may  easily  become  the  commencement  of  an  illusion. 
Not  only  may  we  mistake  a  measure  of  noise  for  perfect 
silence,1  we  may  misconceive  the  real  nature  of  ex¬ 
ternal  circumstances  by  overlooking  some  continuous 
impression. 

Curious  illustrations  of  this  effect  are  found  in 
optical  illusions,  namely,  the  errors  we  make  re¬ 
specting  the  movement  of  stationary  objects  after 
continued  movement  of  the  eyes.  When,  for  example, 
in  a  railway  carriage  we  have  for  some  time  been 
following  the  (apparent)  movement  of  objects,  as  trees, 
etc.,  and  turn  our  eyes  to  an  apparently  stationary 
object,  as  the  carpet  of  the  compartment,  this  seems  to 
move  in  the  contrary  direction  to  that  of  the  trees. 
Helmholtz’s  explanation  of  this  illusion  is  that  when 
we  suppose  that  we  are  fixing  our  eye  on  the  carpet  we 
are  really  continuing  to  move  it  over  the  surface  by 
reason  of  the  organic  tendency,  already  spoken  of,  to  go 
on  doing  anything  that  has  been  done.  But  since  we 
are  unaware  of  this  prolonged  series  of  ocular  move¬ 
ments,  the  muscular  feelings  having  become  faint,  we 
take  the  impression  produced  by  the  sliding  of  the 

1  It  is  supposed  that  in  the  case  of  every  sense-organ  there  is 
always  some  minimum  forces  of  stimulus  at  work,  the  eii'ect  of  which 
ou  our  consciousness  is  nil. 

4 


5S 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


picture  over  the  retina  to  be  the  result  of  a  movement 
of  the  object.1 

Another  limit  to  our  sensibility,  which  needs  to  be 
just  touched  on  here,  is  known  by  the  name  of  the 
specific  energy  of  the  nerves.  One  and.  the  same  nerve- 
fibre  always  reacts  in  a  precisely  similar  way,  whatever 
the  nature  of  the  stimulus.  Thus,  when  the  optic  nerve 
is  stimulated  in  any  manner,  whether  by  light,  me¬ 
chanical  pressure,  or  au  electric  current,  the  same 
effect,  a  sensation  of  light,  follows.2  In  a  usual  way,  a 
given  class  of  nerve-fibre  is  only  stimulated  by  one 
kind  of  stimulus.  Thus,  the  retina,  in  ordinary  circum¬ 
stances,  is  stimulated  by  light.  Owing  to  this  fact, 
there  has  arisen  a  deeply  organized  habit  of  translating 
the  impression  in  one  particular  way.  Thus,  I  in¬ 
stinctively  regard  a  sensation  received  by  means  of 
the  optic  nerve  as  one  caused  by  light. 

Accordingly,  whenever  circumstances  arise  in  which 
a  like  sensation  is  produced  by  another  kind  of  stimu¬ 
lus,  we  fall  into  illusion.  The  phosphenes,  or  circles  of 
light  which  are  seen  when  the  hinder  part  of  the  eye- 

1  See  Helmholtz,  Ph ysiologisclie  Opiile,  p.  003.  Helmholtz’s  ex¬ 
planation  is  criticised  by  Dr.  Hoppe,  in  the  work  already  referred  to 
(sec.  vii.),  though  I  cannot  see  that  his  own  theory  of  these  move¬ 
ments  is  essentially  different.  The  apparent  movement  of  objects  in 
vertigo,  or  giddiness,  is  probably  due  to  the  loss,  through  a  physical 
cause,  of  the  impressions  made  by  the  pressure  of  the  fluid  contents  of 
the  ear  on  the  auditory  fibres,  by  which  the  sense  of  equilibrium  and 
of  rotation  is  usually  received.  (See  Ferrier,  Functions  of  the  Brain , 
pp.  tiO,  61.) 

2  I  do  not  need  here  to  go  into  the  question  whether,  as  Johannes 
Miiller  assumed,  this  is  an  original  attribute  of  nerve-structure,  or 
whether,  as  Wundt  suggests,  it  is  due  simply  to  the  fact  that  certain 
kinds  of  nervous  fibre  have,  in  the  course  of  evolution,  been  slowly 
adapted  to  one  kind  of  stimulus. 


SPECIFIC  ENERGY  OF  NERVES. 


59 


ball  is  pressed,  may  be  said  to  be  illusory  in  so  far  as 
we  speak  of  them  as  perceptions  of  light,  thus  referring 
them  to  the  external  physical  agency  which  usually 
causes  them.  The  same  remark  applies  to  those 
“subjective  sensations,”  as  they  are  called,  which  are 
known  to  have  as  their  physical  cause  subjective 
stimuli,  consisting,  in  the  case  of  sight,  in  varying 
conditions  of  the  peripheral  organ,  as  increased  blood- 
pressure.  Strictly  speaking,  such  simple  feelings  as 
these  appear  to  be,  involve  an  ingredient  of  false  per¬ 
ception  :  in  saying  that  we  'perceive  light  at  all,  we  go 
beyond  the  pure  sensation,  interpreting  this  wrongly. 

Very  closely  connected  with  this  limitation  of  our 
sensibility  is  another  which  refers  to  the  consciousness 
of  the  local  seat,  or  origin  of  the  impression.  This 
has  so  far  its  basis  in  the  sensation  itself  as  it  is  well 
known  that  (within  the  limits  of  local  discrimination, 
referred  to  above)  sensations  have  a  particular  “  local  ” 
colour,  which  varies  in  the  case  of  each  of  the  nervous 
fibres  by  the  stimulation  of  which  they  arise.1  But 
though  this  much  is  known  through  a  difference  in 
the  sensibility,  nothing  more  is  known.  Nothing  can 
certainly  be  ascertained  by  a  mere  inspection  of  the 
sensation  as  to  the  distance  the  nervous  process  has 
travelled,  whether  from  the  peripheral  termination  of 
the  fibre  or  from  some  intermediate  point. 

In  a  general  way,  we  refer  our  sensations  to  the 
peripheral  endings  of  the  nerves  concerned,  according 
to  what  physiologists  have  called  “  the  law'  of  eccen- 

1  I  here  refer  to  what  is  commonly  supposed  to  he  the  vague 
innate  difference  of  sensation  according  to  the  local  origin,  before  this 
is  rendered  precise,  and  added  to  by  experience  and  association. 


liO 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION 


tricity.”  Tims  I  am  said  to  feel  the  pain  caused  by 
a  bruise  in  the  foot  in  the  member  itself.  This  applies 
also  to  some  of  the  sensations  of  the  special  senses. 
Thus,  impressions  of  taste  are  clearly  localized  in  the 
corresponding  peripheral  terminations. 

With  respect  to  the  sense  of  smell,  and  still  more 
to  those  of  hearing  and  sight,  where  the  impression  is 
usually  caused  by  an  object  at  a  distance  from  the 
peripheral  organ,  our  attention  to  this  external  cause 
leads  us  to  overlook  in  part  the  “  bodily  seat  ”  of  the 
sensation.  Yet  even  here  we  are  dimly  aware  that 
the  sensation  is  received  by  way  of  a  particular  part  of 
the  sensitive  surface,  that  is  to  say,  by  a  particular 
sense-organ.  Thus,  though  referring  an  odour  to  a  dis¬ 
tant  flower,  we  perceive  that  the  sensation  of  odour  has 
its  bodily  origin  in  the  nose.  And  even  in  the  case  of 
hearing  and  sight,  we  vaguely  refer  the  impressions,  as 
such,  to  the  appropriate  sense-organ.  There  is,  indeed, 
in  these  cases  a  double  local  reference,  a  faint  one  to 
the  peripheral  organ  which  is  acted  on,  and  a  more  dis¬ 
tinct  one  to  the  object  or  the  force  in  the  environment 
which  acts  on  this. 

Now,  it  may  be  said  that  the  act  of  localization  is 
in  itself  distinctly  illusory,  since  it  is  known  that  the 
sensation  first  arises  in  connection  with  the  excitation 
of  the  sensory  centre,  and  not  of  the  peripheral  fibre.1 

1  The  illusory  character  of  this  simple  mode  of  perception  is  seen 
best,  perhaps,  in  the  curious  habit  into  which  we  fall  of  referring 
a  sensation  of  contact  or  discomfort  to  the  edge  of  tin  teeth,  the  hair, 
and  the  other  insentient  structures,  and  even  to  anything  customarily 
attached  to  the  sentient  surface,  as  dress,  a  pen,  graving  tool,  etc. 
On  these  curious  illusions,  see  Lotze,  Milcrolwinus,  third  edit.,  vol.  ii 
p  2C2,  etc.  ;  Taine,  De  V Intelligence,  tom.  ii.  p.  S3,  et  seq. 


LOCALIZATION  OF  IMPRESSION. 


61 


Yet  it  must  at  least  be  allowed  that  this  localization  of 
sensation  answers  to  the  important  fact  that,  under 
usual  circumstances,  the  agency  producing  the  sensa¬ 
tion  is  applied  at  this  particular  point  of  the  organism, 
the  knowledge  of  which  point  is  supposed  by  modem 
psychologists  to  have  been  very  slowly  learnt  by  the 
individual  and  the  race,  through  countless  experiments 
with  the  moving  organ  of  touch,  assisted  by  the  eye. 

Similarly,  the  reference  of  the  impression,  in  the 
case  of  hearing  and  sight,  to  an  object  in  the  environ¬ 
ment,  though,  as  we  have  seen,  from  one  point  of  view 
illusory,  clearly  answers  to  a  fact  of  our  habitual  ex¬ 
perience  ;  for  in  an  immense  preponderance  of  cases  at 
least  a  visual  or  auditory  impression  does  arise  through 
the  action  on  the  sense-organ  of  a  force  (ether  or  air 
waves)  proceeding  from  a  distant  object. 

In  some  circumstances,  however,  even  this  element 
of  practical  truth  disappears,  and  the  localization  of 
the  impression,  both  within  and  without  the  organism, 
becomes  altogether  illusory.  This  result  is  involved  in 
the  illusions,  already  spoken  of,  which  arise  from  the 
instinctive  tendency  to  refer  sensations  to  the  ordinary 
kind  of  stimulus.  Thus,  when  a  feeling  resulting 
from  a  disturbance  in  the  optic  nerve  is  interpreted 
as  one  of  external  light  vaguely  felt  to  be  acting  on 
the  eye,  or  one  resulting  from  some  action  set  up 
in  the  auditory  fibre  as  a  sensation  of  external  sound 
vaguely  felt  to  be  entering  the  ear,  we  see  that  the 
error  of  localization  is  a  consequence  of  the  other  error 
already  characterized. 

As  I  have  already  observed,  an  excitation  of  a 
nerve  at  any  other  point  than  the  peripheral  termi- 


(52 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


nation,  occurs  but  rarely  in  normal  life.  One  familiar 
instance  is  the  stimulation  of  the  nerve  running  to 
the  hand  and  fingers,  by  a  sharp  blow  on  the  elbow 
over  which  it  passes.  As  everybody  knows,  this  gives 
rise  to  a  sense  of  pain  at  the  extremities  of  the  nerve. 
The  most  common  illustration  of  such  errors  of  locali¬ 
zation  is  found  in  subjective  sensations,  such  as  the 
impression  we  sometimes  have  of  something  creeping 
over  the  skin,  of  a  disagreeable  taste  in  the  mouth, 
of  luminous  spots  floating  across  the  field  of  vision, 
and  so  on.  The  exact  physiological  seat  of  these  is 
often  a  matter  of  conjecture  only ;  yet  it  may  safely 
be  said  that  in  many  instances  the  nervous  excitation 
originates  at  some  point  considerably  short  of  its  peri¬ 
pheral  extremity  :  in  which  case  there  occurs  the 
illusion  of  referring  the  impressions  to  the  peripheral 
sense-organ,  and  to  an  external  force  acting  on  this. 

The  most  striking  instances  of  these  errors  of 
localization  are  found  in  abnormal  circumstances. 
It  is  well  known  that  a  man  who  has  lost  a  leg 
refers  all  sensations  arising  from  a  stimulation  of  the 
truncated  fibres  to  his  lost  foot,  and  in  some  cases  has 
even  to  convince  himself  of  the  non-existence  of  his 
lost  member  by  sight  or  touch.  Patients  often  de¬ 
scribe  these  experiences  in  very  odd  language.  “  If,” 
says  one  of  Dr.  Weir  Mitchell’s  patients,  “  I  should 
say  I  am  more  sure  of  the  leg  which  ain’t  than  the 
one  which  air,  I  guess  I  should  be  about  correct.” 1 

1  Quoted  by  G.  H.  Lewes,  Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,  third 
series,  p.  335.  These  illusions  are  supposed  to  involve  an  excitation 
of  the  nerve-fibres  (whether  sensory  or  motor)  which  run  to  the 
muscles  and  yield  the  so-called  muscular  sensations. 


ILLUSORY  LOCALIZATION'. 


63 

There  is  good  reason  for  supposing  that  this  source 
of  error  plays  a  prominent  part  in  the  illusions  of  the 
insane.  Diseased  centres  may  be  accompanied  by 
disordered  peripheral  structures,  and  so  subjective 
sensation  may  frequently  be  the  starting-point  of  the 
wildest  illusions.  Thus,  a  patient’s  horror  of  poison 
may  have  its  first  origin  in  some  subjective  gustatory 
sensation.  Similarly,  subjective  tactual  sensations  may 
give  rise  to  gross  illusions,  as  when  a  patient  “  feels  ” 
his  body  attacked  by  foul  and  destructive  creatures. 

It  may  be  well  to  remark  that  this  mistaken  in¬ 
terpretation  of  the  seat  or  origin  of  subjective  sensation 
is  closely  related  to  hallucination.  In  so  far  as  the 
error  involves  the  ascription  of  the  sensation  to  a 
force  external  to  the  sense-organ,  this  part  of  the 
mental  process  must,  when  there  is  no  such  force 
present,  be  viewed  as  hallucinatory.  Thus,  the  feeling 
of  something  creeping  over  the  skin  is  an  hallucination 
in  the  sense  that  it  implies  the  idea  of  an  object  ex¬ 
ternal  to  the  skin.  Similarly,  the  projection  of  an 
ocular  impression  due  to  retinal  disturbance  into  the 
external  field  of  vision,  may  rightly  be  named  an  hallu¬ 
cination.  But  the  case  is  not  always  so  clear  as  this. 
Thus,  for  example,  when  a  gustatory  sensation  is  the 
result  of  an  altered  condition  of  the  saliva,  it  may  be 
said  that  the  error  is  as  much  an  illusion  as  an  hallu¬ 
cination.1 

In  a  wide  sense,  again,  all  errors  connected  with 

1  It  is  brought  out  by  Griesinger  {loc.  cit .)  and  the  other  writers 
ou  the  pathology  of  illusion  already  quoted,  that  in  the  ease  of 
subjective  sensations  of  touch,  taste,  and  smell,  no  sharp  line  can  be 
drawn  between  illusion  and  hallucination. 


64  ILLUSIONS  OP  PERCEPTION. 

those  subjective  sensations  which  arise  from  a  stimu¬ 
lation  of  the  peripheral  regions  of  the  nerve  may  be 
called  illusions  rather  than  hallucinations.  Or,  if  they 
must  be  called  hallucinations,  they  may  be  dis¬ 
tinguished  as  “  peripheral  ”  from  those  “  central  ” 
hallucinations  which  arise  through  an  internal  auto¬ 
matic  excitation  of  the  sensory  centre.  It  is  plain 
from  this  that  the  region  of  subjective  sensation  is  an 
ambiguous  region,  where  illusion  and  hallucination  mix 
and  become  confused.  To  this  point  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  return  by-and-by. 

I  have  now  probably  said  enough  respecting  the 
illusions  that  arise  through  the  fact  of  there  being 
fixed  limits  to  our  sensibility.  The  rationale  of  these 
illusions  is  that  whenever  the  limit  is  reached,  we  tend 
to  ignore  it  and  to  interpret  the  impression  in  the 
customary  way. 

Variations  of  Sensibility. 

We  will  now  pass  to  a  number  of  illusions  which 
depend  on  something  variable  in  the  condition  of  our 
sensibility,  or  some  more  or  less  exceptional  organic 
circumstance.  These  variations  may  be  momentary 
and  transient  or  comparatively  permanent.  The  illu¬ 
sion  arises  in  each  case  from  our  ignoring  the  variation, 
and  treating  a  given  sensation  under  all  circumstances 
as  answering  to  one  objective  cause. 

First  of  all,  the  variation  of  organic  state  may 
affect  our  mental  representation  of  the  strength  of  the 
stimulus  or  external  cause.  Here  the  fluctuation  may 
be  a  temporary  or  a  permanent  one.  The  first  case  is 
illustrated  in  the  familiar  example  of  taking  a  room 


HYPERESTHESIA  AND  ANESTHESIA. 


65 


lo  be  brighter  than  it  is  when  emerging  from  a  dark 
one.  Another  striking  example  is  that  of  our  sense 
of  the  temperature  of  objects,  which  is  known  to  be 
strictly  relative  to  a  previous  sensation,  or  more  cor¬ 
rectly  to  the  momentary  condition  of  the  organ.  Yet,, 
though  every  intelligent  person  knows  this,  the  deeply 
rooted  habit  of  making  sensation  the  measure  of 
objective  quality  asserts  its  sway,  and  frequently  leads 
us  into  illusion.  The  well-known  experiment  of  first 
plunging  one  hand  in  cold  water,  the  other  in  hot,  and 
then  dipping  them  both  in  tepid,  is  a  startling  example 
of  this  organized  tendency.  For  here  we  are  strongly 
disposed  to  accept  the  palpable  contradiction  that  the 
same  water  is  at  once  warm  and  cool. 

Far  more  important  than  these  temporary  fluctu¬ 
ations  of  sensibility  are  the  permanent  alterations. 
Excessive  fatigue,  want  of  proper  nutrition,  and  certain 
poisons  are  well  known  to  be  causes  of  such  changes. 
They  appear  most  commonly  under  two  forms,  exalted 
sensibility,  or  hyperocsthesia,  and  depressed  sensibility, 
or  anaesthesia.  In  these  conditions  flagrant  errors  are 
made  as  to  the  real  magnitude  of  the  causes  of  the 
sensations.  These  variations  may  occur  in  normal  life 
to  some  extent.  In  fairly  good  health  we  experience  at 
times  strange  exaltations  of  tactual  sensibility,  so  that 
a  very  slight  stimulus,  such  as  the  contact  of  the  bed¬ 
clothes,  becomes  greatly  exaggerated. 

In  diseased  states  of  the  nervous  system  these 
variations  of  sensibility  become  much  more  striking. 
The  patient  who  has  hypersesthesia  fears  to  touch  a 
perfectly  smooth  surface,  or  he  takes  a  knock  at  the 
door  to  be  ac’ap  of  thunder.  The  hypochondriac  may, 


66 


ILLUSIONS  OF  TEItCEFTION. 


through  an  increase  of  organic  sensibility,  translate 
organic  sensations  as  the  effect  of  some  living  creature 
gnawing  at  his  vitals.  Again,  states  of  anaesthesia 
lead  to  odd  illusions  among  the  insane.  The  common 
supposition  that  the  body  is  dead,  or  made  of  wood 
or  of  glass,  is  clearly  referable  in  part  to  lowered  sensi  ¬ 
bility  of  the  organism.1 

It  is  worth  adding,  perhaps,  that  these  variations 
in  sensibility  give  rise  not  only  to  sensory  but  also  to 
motor  illusions.  To  take  a  homely  instance,  the  last 
miles  of  a  long  walk  seem  much  longer  than  the  first, 
not  only  because  the  sense  of  fatigue  leading  us  to 
dwell  on  the  transition  of  time  tends  to  magnify  the 
apparent  duration,  but  because  the  fatigued  muscles  and 
connected  nerves  yield  a  new  set  of  sensations  which 
constitute  an  exaggerated  standard  of  measurement. 
A  number  of  optical  illusions  illustrate  the  same 
thing.  Our  visual  sense  of  direction  is  determined  in 
part  by  the  feelings  accompanying  the  action  of  the 
ocular  muscles,  and  so  is  closely  connected  with  the 
perception  of  movement,  which  has  already  been 
touched  on.  If  an  ocular  muscle  is  partially  para¬ 
lyzed  it  takes  a  much  greater  “  effort  ”  to  effect  a  given 
extent  of  movement  than  when  the  muscle  is  sound. 
Hence  any  movement  performed  by  the  eye  seems 
exaggerated.  Hence,  too,  in  this  condition  objects  are 
seen  in  a  wrong  direction  ;  for  the  patient  reasons 
that  they  are  where  they  would  seem  to  be  if  he  had 
executed  a  wider  movement  than  he  really  has.  This 
may  easily  be  proved  by  asking  him  to  try  to  seize 

1  For  a  fuller  account  of  these  pathological  disturbances  of 
sensibility,  see  Griesinger;  also  Dr.  A.  Mayer,  Die  Sinnestauschungen. 


PARESTHESIA. 


67 


the  object  with  his  hand.  The  effect  is  exaggerated 
when  complete  paralysis  sets  in,  and  no  actual  move¬ 
ment  occurs  in  obedience  to  the  impulse  from 
within.1 

Variations  in  the  condition  of  the  nerve  affect  not 
only  the  degree,  but  also  the  quality  of  the  sensation, 
and.  this  fact  gives  rise  to  a  new  kind  of  illusion. 
The  curious  phenomena  of  colour-contrast  illustrate 
momentary  alterations  of  sensibility.  When,  after 
looking  at  a  green  colour  for  a  time,  I  turn  my  eye 
to  a  grey  surface  and  see  this  of  the  complementary 
rose-red  hue,  the  effect  is  supposed  to  be  due  to  a 
temporary  fatigue  of  the  retina  in  relation  to  those 
ingredients  of  the  total  light  in  the  second  case  which 
answer  to  the  partial  light  in  the  first  (the  green  rays).2 

These  momentary  modifications  of  sensibility  are 

1  Helmholtz,  op.  cit.,  p.  GOO,  etseq.  There  facts  seem  to  point  to  the 
conclusion  that  at  least  some  of  the  feelings  by  which  we  know  that 
we  are  expending  muscular  energy  are  connected  with  the  initial  stage 
of  the  outgoing  nervous  process  in  the  motor  centres.  In  other 
pathological  conditions  the  sense  of  weight  by  the  muscles  of  the  arms 
is  similarly  confused. 

2  Wundt  (Physiol ogische  Psycliologie,  p.  C53)  would  exclude  from 
illusions  all  those  errors  of  sense-perception  which  have  their  foun¬ 
dation  in  the  normal  structure  and  function  of  the  organs  of  sense 
Thus,  he  would  exclude  the  effects  of  colour- contrast,  e.g.  the 
apparent  modification  of  two  colours  in  juxtaposition  towards  their 
common  boundary,  which  probably  arises  (according  to  E.  Hering) 
from  some  mutual  influence  of  the  temporary  state  of  activity  of 
adjacent  retinal  elements.  To  me,  however,  these  appear  to  be 
illusions,  since  they  may  be  brought  under  the  head  of  wrong  inter¬ 
pretations  of  sense-impressions.  When  we  see  a  grey  patch  as 
rose-red,  as  though  it  were  so  Independently  of  the  action  of  the  com¬ 
plementary  light  previously  or  simultaneously,  that  is  to  say,  as 
though  it  would  appear  rose-red  to  an  eye  independently  of  this 
action,  we  surely  misinterpret. 


68 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


of  no  practical  significance,  being  almost  instantly 
corrected.  Other  modifications  are  more  permanent. 
It  was  found  by  Himly  that  when  the  retina  is  over- 
excitable  every  stimulus  is  raised  in  the  spectrum  scale 
of  colours.  Thus,  violet  becomes  red.  An  exactly 
opposite  effect  is  observed  when  the  retina  is  torpid.1 
Certain  poisons  are  known  to  affect  the  quality  of  the 
colour-impression.  Thus,  santonin,  when  taken  in  any 
quantity,  makes  all  colourless  objects  look  yellow. 
Severe  pathological  disturbances  are  known  to  involve, 
in  addition  to  hypersesthesia  and  anaesthesia,  what  has 
been  called  paraestliesia,  that  is  to  say,  that  condition 
in  which  the  quality  of  sensation  is  greatly  changed. 
Thus,  for  example,  to  one  in  this  state  all  food  appears 
to  have  a  metallic  taste,  and  so  on. 

If  we  now  glance  back  at  the  various  groups  of 
illusions  just  illustrated,  we  find  that  they  all  have 
this  feature  in  common :  they  depend  on  the  general 
mental  law  that  when  we  have  to  do  with  the  unfre¬ 
quent,  the  unimportant,  and  therefore  unattended  to, 
and  the  exceptional,  we  employ  the  ordinary,  the 
familiar,  and  the  well-known  as  our  standard.  Thus, 
whether  we  are  dealing  with  sensations  that  fall  below 
the  ordinary  limits  of  our  mental  experience,  or  with 
those  which  arise  in  some  exceptional  state  of  the 
organism,  we  carry  the  habits  formed  in  the  much 
wider  region  of  average  every-day  perception  with  us. 
In  a  word,  illusion  in  these  cases  always  arises  through 
what  may,  figuratively  at  least,  be  described  as  the 
application  of  a  rule,  valid  for  the  majority  of  cases, 
to  an  exceptional  case. 

1  Quoted  by  G.  H.  Lewes,  loc.  cit.,  p.  257 


ILLUSION  AND  HABIT. 


60 


In  the  varieties  of  illusion  just  considered,  the 
circumstance  that  gives  the  peculiarity  to  the  case 
thus  wrongly  interpreted  has  been  referred  to  the 
organism.  In  the  illusions  to  which  we  now  pass,  it 
,vill  be  referred  to  the  environment.  At  the  same 
time,  it  is  plain  that  there  is  no  very  sharp  distinction 
between  the  two  classes.  Thus,  the  visual  illusion  pro¬ 
duced  by  pressing  the  eyeball  might  be  regarded  not 
only  as  the  result  of  the  organic  law  of  the  “  specific 
energy  ”  of  the  nerves,  but,  with  almost  equal  appro¬ 
priateness,  as  the  consequence  of  an  exceptional  state 
of  things  in  the  environment,  namely,  the  pressure 
of  a  body  on  the  retina.  As  I  have  already  observed, 
the  classification  here  adopted  is  to  be  viewed  simply 
as  a  rough  expedient  for  securing  something  like  a 
systematic  review  of  the  phenomena. 


CHAPTER  Y. 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION  —  continued. 

A.  Passive  Illusions  (b)  as  determined  by  the 
Environment. 

In  the  following  groups  of  illusion  we  may  look  away 
from  nervous  processes  and  organic  disturbances, 
regarding  the  effect  of  any  external  stimulus  as  cha¬ 
racteristic,  that  is,  as  clearly  marked  off  from  the 
effects  of  other  stimuli,  and  as  constant  for  the  same 
stimulus.  The  source  of  the  illusion  will  be  looked 
for  in  something  exceptional  in  the  external  circum¬ 
stances,  whereby  one  object  or  condition  of  an  object 
imitates  the  effect  of  another  object  or  condition,  to 
which,  owing  to  a  large  preponderance  of  experience, 
we  at  once  refer  it. 

Exceptional  Relation  of  Stimulus  to  Organ. 

A  transition  from  the  preceding  to  the  following 
class  of  illusions  is  to  be  met  with  in  those  errors 
which  arise  from  a  very  exceptional  relation  between 
the  stimulus  and  the  organ  of  sense.  Such  a  state 
of  things  is  naturally  interpreted  by  help  of  more 
common  and  familiar  relations,  and  so  error  arises. 


DISPLACEMENT  OF  ORGAN. 


71 


For  example,  we  may  grossly  misinterpret  the 
intensity  of  a  stimulus  under  certain  circumstances. 
Thus,  when  a  man  crunches  a  biscuit,  he  has  an  un¬ 
comfortable  feeling  that  the  noise  as  of  all  the  struc¬ 
tures  of  his  head  being  violently  smashed  is  the  same 
to  other  ears,  and  he  may  even  act  on  his  illusory  per¬ 
ception,  by  keeping  at  a  respectful  distance  from  all 
observers.  And  even  though  he  be  a  physiologist, 
and  knows  that  the  force  of  sensation  in  this  case  is 
due  to  the  propagation  of  vibrations  to  the  auditory 
centre  by  other  channels  than  the  usual  one  of  the  ear, 
the  deeply  organized  impulse  to  measure  the  strength 
of  an  external  stimulus  by  the  intensity  of  the  sensa¬ 
tion  asserts  its  force. 

Again,  if  we  turn  to  the  process  of  perceptional 
construction  properly  so  called,  the  reference  of  the 
sensation  to  a  material  object  lying  in  a  certain  direc¬ 
tion,  etc.,  we  find  a  similar  transitional  form  of  illusion. 
The  most  interesting  case  of  this  in  visual  perception 
is  that  of  a  disturbance  or  displacement  of  the  organ 
by  external  force.  For  example,  an  illusory  sense  of 
direction  arises  by  the  simple  action  of  closing  one 
eye,  say  the  left,  and  pressing  the  other  eyeball  with 
one  of  the  fingers  a  little  outwards,  that  is  to  the  right. 
The  result  of  this  movement  is,  of  course,  to  transfer 
the  retinal  picture  to  new  nervous  elements  further 
to  the  right.  And  since,  in  this  instance,  the  dis¬ 
placement  is  not  produced  in  the  ordinary  way  by 
the  activity  of  the  ocular  muscle  making  itself  known 
by  certain  feelings  of  movement,  it  is  disregarded 
altogether,  and  the  direction  of  the  objects  is  judged 
as  though  the  eye  were  stationary. 


72 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


A  somewhat  similar  illusion  as  to  direction  occurs 
in  auditory  perception.  The  sense  of  direction  by  the 
ear  is  known  to  be  due  in  part  to  the  action  of  the 
auricle,  or  projecting  part  of  the  ear.  This  collects 
the  air-waves,  and  so  adds  to  the  intensity  of  the 
sounds,  especially  those  coming  from  in  front,  and 
thus  assists  in  the  estimation  of  direction.  This  being 
so,  if  an  artificial  auricle  is  placed  in  front  of  the  ears  ; 
if,  for  example,  the  two  hands  are  each  bent  into  a 
sort  of  auricle,  and  placed  in  front  of  the  ears,  the 
back  of  the  hand  being  in  front,  the  sense  of  direction 
(as  well  as  of  distance)  is  confused.  Thus,  sounds 
really  travelling  from  a  point  in  front  of  the  head  will 
appear  to  come  from  behind  it. 

Again,  the  perception  of  the  unity  of  an  object  is 
liable  to  be  falsified  by  the  introduction  of  exceptional 
circumstances  into  the  sense-organ.  This  is  illustrated 
in  the  well-known  experiment  of  crossing  two  fingers, 
say  the  third  and  fourth,  and  placing  a  marble  or  other 
small  round  object  between  them.  Under  ordinary  cir¬ 
cumstances,  the  two  lateral  surfaces  (that  is,  the  outer 
surfaces  of  the  two  fingers)  now  pressed  by  the  marble, 
can  only  be  acted  on  simultaneously  by  two  objects 
having  convex  surfaces.  Consequently,  we  cannot 
help  feeling  the  presence  of  two  objects  in  this  ex¬ 
ceptional  instance.  The  illusion  is  analogous  to  that 
of  the  stereoscope,  to  be  spoken  of  presently. 

Exceptional  External  Arrangements. 

Passing  now  to  those  cases  where  the  exceptional 
circumstance  is  altogether  exterior  to  the  organ,  we 
find  a  familiar  example  in  the  illusions  connected  with 


DIRECTION  AND  MOVEMENT. 


73 


the  action  of  well-known  physical  forces,  as  the  re¬ 
fraction  of  light,  and  the  reflection  of  light  and 
sound.  A  stick  half-immersed  in  water  always  looks 
broken,  however  well  we  may  know  that  the  appear¬ 
ance  is  due  to  the  bending  of  the  rays  of  light. 
Similarly,  an  echo  always  sounds  as  though  it  came 
from  some  object  in  the  direction  in  which  the  air¬ 
waves  finally  travel  to  the  ear,  though  w'e  are  perfectly 
sure  that  these  undulations  have  taken  a  circuitous 
course.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  remind  the  reader 
that  the  deeply  organized  tendency  to  mistake  the 
direction  of  the  visible  or  audible  object  in  these  cases 
has  from  remote  ages  been  made  use  of  as  a  means  of 
popular  delusion.  Thus,  w'e  are  told  by  Sir  D.  Brewster, 
in  his  entertaining  Letters  on  Natural  Magic  (letter 
iv.),  that  the  concave  mirror  was  probably  used  as  the 
instrument  for  bringing  the  gods  before  the  people. 
The  throwing  of  the  images  formed  by  such  mirrors 
upon  smoke  or  against  fire,  so  as  to  make  them  more 
distinct,  seems  to  have  been  a  favourite  device  in  the 
ancient  art  of  necromancy. 

Closely  connected  with  these  illusions  of  direction 
with  respect  to  resting  objects,  are  those  into  which  we 
are  apt  to  fall  respecting  the  movements  of  objects. 
What  looks  like  the  movement  of  somethin<r  across 
the  field  of  vision  is  made  known  to  us  either  by  the 
feeling  of  the  ocular  muscles,  if  the  eye  follows  the 
object,  or  through  the  sequence  of  locally  distinct 
retinal  impressions,  if  the  eye  is  stationary.  Now, 
either  of  these  effects  may  result,  not  only  from  the 
actual  movement  of  the  object  in  a  particular  direc¬ 
tion,  but  from  our  own  movement  in  an  opposite 


74 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


direction;  or,  again,  from  our  both  moving  in  the  first 
direction,  the  object  more  rapidly  than  ourselves ;  or, 
finally,  from  our  both  moving  in  an  opposite  direction 
to  this,  ourselves  more  rapidly  than  the  object.  There 
is  thus  always  a  variety  of  conceivable  explanations, 
and  the  action  of  past  experience  and  association 
shows  itself  very  plainly  in  the  determination  of  the 
direction  of  interpretation.  Thus,  it  is  our  instinctive 
tendency  to  take  apparent  movement  for  real  move¬ 
ment,  except  when  the  fact  of  our  own  movement  is 
clearly  present  to  consciousness,  as  when  we  are  walk¬ 
ing,  or  when  we  are  sitting  behind  a  liorse  whose 
movement  we  see.  And  so  when  the  sense  of  our  own 
movement  becomes  indistinct,  as  in  a  railway  carriage, 
we  naturally  drift  into  the  illusion  that  objects,  such  as 
trees,  telegraph  posts,  and  so  on,  are  moving,  when  they 
are  perfectly  still.  Under  the  same  circumstances,  we 
are  apt  to  suppose  that  a  train  which  is  just  shooting 
ahead  of  us  is  moving  slowly. 

Similar  uncertainties  arise  with  respect  to  the 
relative  movement  of  two  objects,  the  eye  being  sup¬ 
posed  to  be  fixed  in  space.  When  two  objects  seem 
to  pass  one  another,  it  may  be  that  they  are  both 
moving  in  contrary  directions,  or  that  one  only  is 
moving,  or  finally,  that  both  are  moving  in  the  same 
direction,  the  one  faster  than  the  other.  Experience 
and  habit  here  again  suggest  the  interpretation  which 
is  most  easy,  and  not  unfrequently  produce  illusion. 
Thus,  when  we  watch  clouds  scudding  over  the  face  of 
the  moon,  the  latter  seems  moving  rather  than  the 
former,  and  the  illusion  only  disappears  when  we  fix 
the  eye  on  the  moon  and  recognize  that  it  is  really 


ILLUSIONS  OF  DISTANCE. 


75 


stationary.  The  probable  reason  of  this  is,  as  Wundt 
suggests,  that  experience  has  made  it  far  easier  for  us 
to  think  of  small  objects  like  the  moon  moving  rapidly, 
than  of  large  masses  like  the  clouds.1 

The  perception  of  distance,  still  more  than  that  of 
direction,  is  liable  to  be  illusory.  Indeed,  the  visual 
recognition  of  distance,  together  with  that  of  solidity, 
has  been  the  great  region  for  the  study  of  “  the  decep¬ 
tions  of  the  senses.”  Without  treating  the  subject 
fully  here,  I  shall  try  to  describe  briefly  the  nature 
and  source  of  these  illusions.2 

Confining  ourselves  first  of  all  to  near  objects,  we 
know  that  the  smaller  differences  of  distance  in  these 
cases  are,  if  the  eyes  are  at  rest,  perceived  by  means  of 
the  dissimilar  pictures  projected  on  the  two  retinas;  or 
if  they  move,  by  this  means,  together  with  the  muscular 
feelings  that  accompany  different  degrees  of  converg¬ 
ence  of  the  two  eyes.  This  was  demonstrated  by  the 
famous  experiments  of  Wheatstone.  Thus,  by  means 
of  the  now  familiar  stereoscope,  he  was  able  to  produce 
a  perfect  illusion  of  relief.  The  stereoscope  may  be 


1  The  subject  of  the  perception  of  movement  is  too  intricate  to  be 
dealt  with  fully  hero.  I  have  only  touched  on  it  so  far  as  necessary  to 
illustrate  our  general  principle.  For  a  fuller  treatment  of  the 
subject,  see  the  work  of  Dr.  IIoppc,  already  referred  to. 

2  The  perception  of  magnitude  is  closely  connected  with  that  of 
distance,  and  is  similarly  apt  to  take  an  illusory  form.  I  need  only 
refer  to  the  well-known  simple  optical  contrivances  for  increasing  the 
apparent  magnitude  of  objects.  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  add  that  I  do  not 
profess  to  give  a  complete  account  of  optical  illusions  here,  but  only  to 
select  a  few  prominent  varieties,  with  a  view  to  illustrate  general  prin¬ 
ciples  of  illusion.  For  a  fuller  account  of  the  various  mechanical 
arrangements  for  producing  optical  illusion,  I  must  refer  the  reader  to 
the  writings  of  Sir  D.  Brewster  and  Helmholtz. 


7t>  ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 

said  to  introduce  an  exceptional  state  of  things  into  the 
spectator’s  environment.  It  imitates,  by  means  of  two 
flat  drawings,  the  dissimilar  retinal  pictures  projected 
by  a  single  solid  receding  object,  and  the  lenses  through 
which  the  eyes  look  are  so  constructed  as  to  compel 
them  to  converge  as  though  looking  on  a  single  object. 
And  so  powerful  is  the  tendency  to  interpret  this  im¬ 
pression  as  one  of  solidity,  that  even  though  we  are 
aware  of  the  presence  of  the  stereoscopic  apparatus, 
we  cannot  help  seeing  the  two  drawings  as  a  single 
solid  object. 

In  the  case  of  more  remote  objects,  there  is  no 
dissimilarity  of  the  retinal  pictures  or  feelings  of  con¬ 
vergence  to  assist  the  eye  in  determining  distance. 
Here  its  judgment,  which  now  becomes  more  of  a  pro¬ 
cess  of  conscious  inference,  is  determined  by  a  number 
of  circumstances  which,  through  experience  and  asso¬ 
ciation,  have  become  the  signs  of  differences  of  depth 
in  space.  Among  these  are  the  degree  of  indistinctness 
of  the  impression,  the  apparent  or  retinal  magnitude  (if 
the  object  is  a  familiar  one),  the  relations  of  linear  per¬ 
spective,  as  the  interruption  of  the  outline  of  far  objects 
by  that  of  near  objects,  and  so  on.  In  a  process  so  com¬ 
plicated  there  is  clearly  ample  room  for  error,  and  wrong 
estimates  of  distance  whenever  unusual  circumstances 
are  present  are  familiar  to  all.  Thus,  the  inexperienced 
English  tourist,  when  in  the  clear  atmosphere  of  Swit¬ 
zerland,  where  the  impressions  from  distant  objects  are 
more  distinct  than  at  home,  naturally  falls  into  the 
illusion  that  the  mountains  are  much  nearer  than  they 
are,  and  so  fails  to  realize  their  true  altitude. 


JUDGING  DISTANCE. 


77 


Illusions  of  Art. 

The  imitation  of  solidity  and  depth  by  art  is  a 
curious  and  interesting  illustration  of  the  mode  of 
production  of  illusion.  Here  we  are  not,  of  course, 
concerned  with  the  question  how  far  illusion  is  desir¬ 
able  in  art,  but  only  with  its  capabilities  of  illusory 
presentment ;  which  capabilities,  it  may  be  added, 
have  been  fully  illustrated  in  the  history  of  art.  The 
full  treatment  of  this  subject  would  form  a  chapter  in 
itself;  here  I  can  only  touch  on  its  main  features. 

Pictorial  art  working  on  a  flat  surface  cannot,  it  is 
plain,  imitate  the  stereoscope,  and  produce  a  perfect 
sense  of  solidity.  Yet  it  manages  to  produce  a  pretty 
strong  illusion.  It  illustrates  in  a  striking  manner 
the  ease  with  which  the  eye  conceives  relations  of 
depth  or  relief  and  solidity.  If,  for  example,  on 
a  carpet,  wall-paper,  or  dress,  bright  lines  are  laid  on  a 
dark  colour  as  ground,  we  easily  imagine  that  they  are 
advancing.  The  reason  of  this  seems  to  be  that  in  our 
daily  experience  advancing  surfaces  catch  and  reflect 
the  light,  whereas  retiring  surfaces  are  in  shadow.1 

The  same  principle  is  illustrated  in  one  of  the 
means  used  by  the  artist  to  produce  a  strong  sense 
of  relief,  namely,  the  cast  shadow.  A  circle  drawn 
wdth  chalk  with  a  powerful  cast  shadow  on  one  side 

1  Painters  are  well  aware  that  the  colours  at  the  red  end  of  the 
spectrum  are  apt  to  appear  as  advancing,  while  those  of  the  violet  e>  d 
me  known  as  retiring.  The  appearance  of  relief  given  by  a  gilded 
pattern  on  a  dark  bine  as  ground,  is  in  part  referable  to  the  principle 
ju«t  referred  to.  In  addition,  it  appears  to  involve  a  difference  in  the 
action  of  the  muscles  of  accommodation  in  the  successive  adaptations 
of  the  eye  to  the  most  refrangible  and  the  least  refrangible  rays, 
rgee  Briicke,  hie  Pliygiologie  der  Farhen,  sec.  17.) 


78 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


will,  without  any  shading  or  modelling  of  the  form,  ap¬ 
pear  to  stand  out  from  the  paper,  thus : 


The  reason  is  that  the  presence  of  such  a  shadow  so 
forcibly  suggests  to  the  mind  that  the  object  is  a  pro¬ 
minent  one  intervening  between  the  light  and  the 
shaded  surface.1 

Even  without  differences  of  light  and  shade,  by  a 
mere  arrangement  of  lines,  we  may  produce  a  powerful 
sense  of  relief  or  solidity.  A  striking  example  of 
this  is  the  way  in  which  two  intersecting  lines  some¬ 
times  appear  to  recede  from  the  eye,  as  the  lines  a  a', 
b  b\  in  the  next  drawing,  which  seem  to  belong  to  a 
regular  pattern  on  the  ground,  at  which  the  eye  is 
looking  from  above  and  obliquely. 


1  Helmholtz  tells  ns  (Popular e  wissenscliaftliche  Vortrilge,  3tes 
Heft,  p.  64)  that  even  in  a  stereoscopic  arrangement  the  presence 
of  a  wrong  cast  shadow  sufficed  to  disturb  the  illusion. 


ART  AND  RELIEF. 


79 


Again,  the  correct  delineation  of  the  projection  of  a 
regular  geometrical  figure,  as  a  cube,  suffices  to  give 
the  eye  a  sense  of  relief.  This  effect  is  found  to  be 
the  more  striking  in  proportion  to  the  familiarity  of 
the  form.  The  following  drawing  of  a  long  box-shaped 
solid  at  once  seems  to  stand  out  to  the  eye. 


This  habitual  interpretation  of  the  flat  in  art  as 
answering  to  objects  in  relief,  or  having  depth,  can 
only  be  understood  when  it  is  remembered  that  our 
daily  experience  gives  us  myriads  of  instances  in 
which  the  effect  of  such  flat  representations  answers 
to  solid  receding  forms.  That  is  to  say,  in  the  case 
of  all  distant  objects,  in  the  perception  of  which  the 
dissimilarity  of  the  retinal  pictures  and  the  feeling 
of  convergence  take  no  part,  we  have  to  interpret 
solidity,  and  relations  of  nearer  and  further,  by  such 
signs  as  linear  perspective  and  cast  shadow.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  is  only  in  the  artificial  life 
of  indoors,  on  our  picture-covered  walls,  that  we  ex¬ 
perience  such  effects  w  ithout  discovering  corresponding 
realities.  Hence  a  deeply  organized  habit  of  taking 
these  impressions  as  answering  to  the  solid  and  not  to 
the  flat.  If  our  experience  had  been  quite  different: 


80 


ILLUSIONS  OP  PERCEPTION. 


if,  for  example,  we  had  been  brought  up  in  an  empty 
room,  amid  painted  walls,  and  had  been  excluded  from 
the  sight  of  the  world  of  receding  objects  outside,  we 
might  easily  have  formed  an  exactly  opposite  habit  of 
taking  the  actual  mountains,  trees,  etc.,  of  the  distant 
scene  to  be  pictures  laid  on  a  flat  surface. 

It  follows  from  this  that,  with  respect  to  the  distant 
parts  of  a  scene,  pictorial  art  possesses  the  means  of 
perfect  imitation  ;  and  here  we  see  that  a  complete 
illusory  effect  is  obtainable.  I  need  but  to  refer  to 
the  w'ell-know'n  devices  of  linear  and  aerial  perspective, 
by  w'hich  this  result  is  secured.1  The  value  of  these 
means  of  producing  illusion  at  the  command  of  the 
painter,  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following  fact,  w'hich 
I  borrow  from  Helmholtz.  If  you  place  two  pieces  of 


cardboard  which  correspond  to  portions  of  one  form  at 
the  sides  and  in  front  of  a  third  piece,  in  the  way 
represented  above,  so  as  just  to  allow  the  eye  to  follow 
the  contour  of  this  last,  and  then  look  at  this  arrange- 

1  Among  the  means  of  giving  a  vivid  sense  of  depth  to  a  picture, 
emphasized  by  Helmholtz,  is  diminishing  magnitude.  It  is  obvious 
that  the  perceptions  of  real  magnitude  and  distance  are  mutually 
involved.  When,  for  example,  a  picture  represents  a  receding  series 
of  objects,  as  animals,  tiees,  or  buildings,  the  sense  of  the  third 
dimension  is  rendered  much  more  clear. 


PICTORIAL  DELUSION. 


81 


ment  from  a  point  at  some  little  distance  with  one  eye, 
you  easily  suppose  that  it  stands  in  front  of  the  side 
pieces.  The  explanation  of  the  illusion  is  that  this 
particular  arrangement  powerfully  suggests  that  the 
outline  of  the  whole  figure,  of  which  the  two  side 
pieces  are  parts,  is  broken  by  an  intervening  object. 
Owing  to  the  force  of  these  and  other  suggestions, 
it  is  easy  for  the  spectator,  when  attending  to  the  back¬ 
ground  of  a  landscape  painting,  to  give  himself  up 
for  a  moment  to  the  pleasant  delusion  that  he  is  looking 
at  an  actual  receding  scene. 

In  connection  with  pictorial  delusion,  I  may  refer 
to  the  well-known  fact,  that  the  eye  in  a  portrait 
seems  to  follow  the  spectator,  or  that  a  gun,  with  its 
muzzle  pointing  straight  outwards,  appears  to  turn  as 
the  spectator  moves.1  These  tricks  of  art  have  puzzled 
many  people,  yet  their  effect  is  easily  understood,  and 
has  been  very  clearly  explained  by  Sir  D.  Brewster,  in 
the  work  already  referred  to  (letter  v.).  They  depend 
on  the  fact  that  a  painting,  being  a  flat  projection  only 
and  not  a  solid,  continues  to  present  the  front  view  of 
an  object  which  it  represents  wherever  the  spectator 
happens  to  stand.  Were  the  eye  in  the  portrait  a  real 
eye,  a  side  movement  of  the  spectator  would,  it  is 
evident,  cause  him  to  see  less  of  the  pupil  and  more 
of  the  side  of  the  eyeball,  and  he  would  only  con¬ 
tinue  to  see  the  full  pupil  when  the  eye  followed 
him.  We  regard  the  eye  in  the  picture  as  a  real  eye 
having  relief,  and  judge  accordingly. 

1  A  striking  example  of  this  was  given  in  a  painting,  by  Andsell, 
of  a  sportsman  in  the  act  of  shooting,  exhibited  in  the  Royal  Academy 
in  18“9. 


5 


82 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


We  may  fall  into  similar  illusions  respecting  dis¬ 
tance  in  auditory  perception.  A  change  of  wind,  an 
unusual  stillness  in  the  air,  is  quite  sufficient  to  produce 
the  sense  that  sounding  objects  are  nearer  than  they 
actually  are.  The  art  of  the  ventriloquist  manifestly 
aims  at  producing  this  kind  of  illusion.  By  imitating 
the  dull  effect  of  a  distant  voice,  he  is  able  to  excite 
in  the  minds  of  his  audience  a  powerful  conviction  that 
the  sounds  proceed  from  a  distant  point.  There  is 
little  doubt  that  ventriloquism  has  played  a  con¬ 
spicuous  part  in  the  arts  of  divination  and  magic. 

Misconception  of  Local  Arrangement. 

Let  us  now  pass  to  a  class  of  illusions  closely  related 
to  those  having  to  do  with  distance,  but  involving  some 
special  kind  of  circumstance  which  powerfully  suggests 
a  particular  arrangement  in  space.  One  of  the  most 
striking  examples  of  these  is  the  erroneous  localization 
of  a  quality  in  space,  that  is  to  say,  the  reference  of  it 
to  an  object  nearer  or  further  off  than  the  right  one. 
Thus,  when  we  look  through  a  piece  of  yellow  glass  at 
a  dull,  wintry  landscape,  we  are  disposed  to  imagine 
that  we  are  looking  at  a  sunny  scene  of  preternatural 
warmth.  A  moment’s  reflection  w'ould  tell  us  that  the 
yellow  tint,  with  which  the  objects  appear  to  be 
suffused,  comes  from  the  presence  of  the  glass  ;  yet,  in 
spite  of  this,  the  illusion  persists  with  a  curious  force. 
The  explanation  is,  of  course,  that  the  circumstances 
are  exceptional,  that  in  a  vast  majority  of  cases  the 
impression  of  colour  belongs  to  the  object  and  not  to 
an  intervening  medium,1  and  that  consequently  we 
1  This  is  at  It  ast  true  of  all  n.  a:  objects. 


OBJECTS  AND  COLOURED  MEDIA. 


83 


tend  to  ignore  the  glass,  and  to  refer  the  colour  to  the 
objects  themselves. 

When,  however,  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  a 
coloured  medium  is  distinctly  present  to  the  mind,  we 
easily  learn  to  allow  for  this,  and  to  recognize  one 
coloured  surface  correctly  through  a  recognized  medium. 
Thus,  we  appear  to  ourselves  to  see  the  reflected  images 
of  the  wall,  etc.,  of  a  room,  in  a  bright  mahogany  table, 
not  suffused  with  a  reddish  yellow  tint,  as  they  actually 
are — and  may  be  seen  to  be  by  the  simple  device 
of  looking  at  a  small  bit  of  the  image  through  a  tube, 
but  in  their  ordinary  colour.  We  may  be  said  to  fall 
into  illusion  here  in  so  far  as  we  overlook  the  exact 
quality  of  the  impression  actually  made  on  the  eye. 
This  point  will  be  touched  on  presently.  Here  I  am 
concerned  to  show  that  this  habit  of  allowing  for  the 
coloured  medium  may,  in  its  turn,  occasionally  lead  to 
plain  and  palpable  illusion. 

The  most  striking  example  of  this  error  is  to  be  met 
with  among  the  curious  phenomena  of  colour-contrast 
already  referred  to.  In  many  of  these  cases  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  the  contrasting  colour  is,  as  I  have  observed, 
due  to  a  temporary  modification  of  the  nervous  sub¬ 
stance.  Yet  it  is  found  that  this  organic  factor  does 
not  wholly  account  for  the  phenomena.  For  example, 
Meyer  made  the  following  experiment.  He  covered  a 
piece  of  green  paper  by  a  sheet  of  thin  transparent 
white  paper.  The  colour  of  this  double  surface  was,  of 
course,  a  pale  green.  He  then  introduced  a  scrap  of 
grey  paper  between  the  two  sheets,  and  found  that,  in¬ 
stead  of  looking  whitish  as  it  really  was,  it  looked  rose- 
red.  Whatever  the  colour  of  the  under  sheet  the  grey 


84 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


scrap  took  the  complementary  hue.  If,  however,  the 
piece  of  grey  paper  is  put  outside  the  thin  sheet,  it 
looks  grey  ;  and  what  is  most  remarkable  is  that  when 
a  second  piece  is  put  outside,  the  scrap  inside  no  longer 
wears  the  complementary  hue. 

There  is  here  evidently  something  more  than  a 
change  of  organic  conditions  ;  there  is  an  action  of 
experience  and  suggestion.  The  reason  of  our  seeing 
the  scrap  rose-red  in  one  case  and  neutral  grey  in 
another,  is  that  in  the  first  instance  we  vividly  repre¬ 
sent  to  ourselves  that  we  are  looking  at  it  through  a 
greenish  veil  (which  is,  of  course,  a  part  of  the  illusion) ; 
for  rose-red  seen  through  a  greenish  medium  would,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  be  light  grey,  as  this  scrap  is.  Even 
if  we  allow  that  there  always  exists  after  an  impression 
of  colour  a  temporary  organic  disposition  to  see  the 
complementary  hue,  this  does  not  suffice  as  an  expla¬ 
nation  of  these  cases;  we  have  to  conclude  further  that 
imagination,  led  by  the  usual  run  of  our  experience, 
is  here  a  co-operant  factor,  and  helps  to  determine 
whether  the  complementary  tint  shall  be  seen  or  not. 

Misinterpretation  of  Form. 

More  complex  and  circumscribed  associations  take 
part  in  those  errors  which  we  occasionally  commit  re¬ 
specting  the  particular  form  of  objects.  This  has  already 
been  touched  on  in  dealing  with  artistic  illusion.  The 
disposition  of  the  eye  to  attribute  solidity  to  a  flat 
drawing  is  the  more  powerful  in  proportion  to  the 
familiarity  of  the  form.  Thus,  an  outline  drawing  of  a 
building  is  apt  to  stand  out  with  special  force. 

Another  curious  illustration  of  this  is  the  pheno- 


CONVERSION  OF  CONCAVE  FORM. 


85 


menon  known  as  the  conversion  of  the  concave  mould  or 
matrix  of  a  medal  into  the  corresponding  convex  relief. 
If,  says  Helmholtz,  the  mould  of  a  medal  be  illuminated 
by  a  light  falling  obliquely  so  as  to  produce  strong- 
shadows,  and  if  we  regard  this  with  one  eye,  we  easily 
fall  into  the  illusion  that  it  is  the  original  raised 
design,  illuminated  from  the  opposite  side.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  visual  impression  produced  by  a  concave 
form  with  the  light  falling  on  one  side,  very  closely 
resembles  that  produced  by  a  corresponding  convex 
form  with  the  light  falling  on  the  other  side.  At  the 
same  time,  it  is  found  that  the  opposite  mode  of  con¬ 
version,  that  is  to  say,  the  transformation  of  the  raised 
into  the  depressed  form,  though  occurring  occasionally, 
is  much  less  frequent.  Now,  it  may  be  asked,  why 
should  we  tend  to  transform  the  concave  into  the  con¬ 
vex,  rather  than  the  convex  into  the  concave  ?  The 
reader  may  easily  anticipate  the  answer  from  what 
has  been  said  about  the  deeply  fixed  tendency  of 
the  eye  to  solidify  a  plane  surface.  We  are  rendered 
much  more  familiar,  both  by  nature  and  by  art,  with 
raised  (cameo)  design  than  with  depressed  design  (in¬ 
taglio),  and  we  instinctively  interpret  the  less  familiar 
form  by  the  more  familiar.  This  explanation  appears 
to  be  borne  out  by  the  fact  emphasized  by  Schroeder 
that  the  illusion  is  much  more  powerful  if  the  design 
is  that  of  some  well-known  object,  as  the  human  head 
or  figure,  or  an  animal  form,  or  leaves.1 

1  Helmholtz  remarks  (op.  cit.,  p.  G2S)  that  the  difficulty  of  seems; 
the  convex  cast  as  concave  is  probably  duo  to  the  presence  of  the 
cast  shadow.  This  has,  no  doubt,  some  effect :  yet  the  consideration 
urged  in  the  text  appears  to  me  to  be  the  most  important  one. 


86 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


Another  illustration  of  this  kind  of  illusion  recently 
occurred  in  my  own  experience.  Nearly  opposite  to 
my  window  came  a  narrow  space  between  two  detached 
houses.  This  was,  of  course,  darker  than  the  front  of 
the  houses,  and  the  receding  parallel  lines  of  the  bricks 
appeared  to  cross  this  narrow  vertical  shaft  obliquely. 
I  could  never  look  at  this  without  seeing  it  as  a  convex 
column,  round  which  the  parallel  lines  wound  obliquely. 
Others  saw  it  as  I  did,  though  not  always  with  the 
same  overpowering  effect.  I  can  only  account  for  this 
illusion  by  help  of  the  general  tendency  of  the  eye  to 
solidify  impressions  drawn  from  the  flat,  together  with 
the  effect  of  special  types  of  experience,  more  par¬ 
ticularly  the  perception  of  cylindrical  forms  in  trees, 
columns,  etc. 

It  may  be  added  that  a  somewhat  similar  illustra¬ 
tion  of  the  action  of  special  types  of  experience  on  the 
perception  of  individual  form  may  be  found  in  the 
region  of  hearing.  The  powerful  disposition  to  take 
the  finely  graduated  cadences  of  sound  produced  by 
the  wind  for  the  utterances  of  a  human  voice,  is  due 
to  the  fact  that  this  particular  form  and  arrangement 
of  sound  has  deeply  impressed  itself  on  our  minds,  in 
connection  with  numberless  utterances  of  human 
feeling. 

Illusions  of  Recognition. 

As  a  last  illustration  of  comparatively  passive 
illusions,  I  may  refer  to  the  errors  which  we  occasion¬ 
ally  commit  in  recognizing  objects.  xVs  I  have  already 
observed,  the  process  of  full  and  clear  recognition, 
specific  and  individual,  involves  a  classing  of  a  number 


FALSE  RECOGNITION. 


87 


of  distinct  aspects  of  the  object,  such  as  colour,  form, 
etc.  Accordingly,  when  in  a  perfectly  calm  state  of 
mind  we  fall  into  illusion  with  respect  to  any  object 
plainly  visible,  it  must  be  through  some  accidental 
resemblance  between  the  object  and  the  other  object  or 
class  of  objects  with  which  we  identify  it.  In  the 
case  of  individual  identification  such  illusions  are,  of 
course,  comparatively  rare,  since  here  there  are  in¬ 
volved  so  many  characteristic  differences.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  the  case  of  specific  recognition  there  is 
ample  room  for  error,  especially  in  those  kinds  of  more 
subtle  recognition  to  which  I  have  already  referred. 
To  “  recognize”  a  person  as  a  Frenchman  or  a  military 
man,  for  example,  is  often  an  erroneous  process.  Logi¬ 
cians  have  included  this  kind  of  error  under  what 
they  call  “  fallacies  of  observation.” 

Errors  of  recognition,  both  specific  and  individual, 
are,  of  course,  more  easy  in  the  case  of  distant  objects  or 
objects  otherwise  indistinctly  seen.  It  is  noticeable  in 
these  cases  that,  even  when  perfectly  cool  and  free 
from  emotional  excitement,  we  tend  to  interpret  such 
indistinct  impressions  according  to  certain  favourite 
types  of  experience,  as  the  human  face  and  figure.  Our 
interpretative  imagination  easily  sees  traces  of  the 
human  form  in  cloud,  rock,  or  tree-stump. 

Again,  even  when  there  is  no  error  of  recognition, 
in  the  sense  of  confusing  one  object  with  other  objects, 
there  may  be  partial  illusion.  I  have  remarked  that 
the  process  of  recognizing  an  object  commonly  involves 
an  overlooking  of  points  of  diversity  in  the  object,  or 
aspect  of  the  object,  now  present.  And  sometimes  this 
inattention  to  what  is  actually  present  includes  an  error 


88 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


as  to  the  actual  visual  sensation  of  the  moment.  Thus, 
for  example,  when  I  look  at  a  sheet  of  white  paper  in 
a  feebly  lit  room,  I  seem  to  see  its  whiteness.  If,  how¬ 
ever,  I  bring  it  near  the  window,  and  let  the  sun  fall 
on  a  part  of  it,  I  at  once  recognize  that  what  I  have 
been  seeing  is  not  white,  but  a  decided  grey.  Similarly, 
when  I  look  at  a  brick  viaduct  a  mile  or  two  off,  I 
appear  to  myself  to  recognize  its  redness.  In  fact, 
however,  the  impression  of  colour  which  I  receive  from 
the  object  is  not  that  of  brick-red  at  all,  but  a  much 
less  decided  tint ;  which  I  may  easily  prove  by  bending 
my  head  downwards  and  letting  the  scene  image  itself 
on  the  retina  in  an  unusual  way,  in  which  case  the 
recognition  of  the  object  as  a  viaduct  being  less  dis¬ 
tinct,  I  am  better  able  to  attend  to  the  exact  shade  of 
the  colour. 

Nowhere  is  this  inattention  to  the  sensation  of  the 
moment  exhibited  in  so  striking  a  manner  as  in 
pictorial  art.  A  picture  of  Meissonier  may  give  the 
eye  a  representation  of  a  scene  in  which  the  objects,  as 
the  human  figures  and  horses,  have  a  distinctness  that 
belongs  to  near  objects,  but  an  apparent  magnitude 
that  belongs  to  distant  objects.  So  again,  it  is  found 
that  the  degree  of  luminosity  or  brightness  of  a  pic¬ 
torial  representation  differs  in  general  enormously  from 
that  of  the  actual  objects.  Thus,  according  to  the  cal¬ 
culations  of  Helmholtz,1  a  picture  representing  a  Be¬ 
douin’s  white  raiment  in  blinding  sunshine,  will,  when 
seen  in  a  fairly  lit  gallery,  have  a  degree  of  lumi¬ 
nosity  reaching  only  to  about  one-thirtieth  of  that 
of  the  actual  object.  On  the  other  hand,  a  painting 
1  Fopulare  wissinschaftliche  Vortrage,  Stes  Heft,  pp.  71,  72. 


SENSATION  OVERPOWERED  BY  SUGGESTION.  89 


representing  marble  ruins  illuminated  by  moonlight, 
will,  under  the  same  conditions  of  illumination,  have  a 
luminosity  amounting  to  as  much  as  from  ten  to  twenty 
thousand  times  that  of  the  object.  Yet  the  spectator 
does  not  notice  these  stupendous  discrepancies.  The 
representation,  in  spite  of  its  vast  difference,  at  once 
carries  the  mind  on  to  the  actuality,  and  the  spectator 
may  even  appear  to  himself,  in  moments  of  complete 
absorption,  to  be  looking  at  the  actual  scene. 

The  truly  startling  part  of  these  illusions  is,  that 
the  direct  result  of  sensory  stimulation  appears  to  be 
actually  displaced  by  a  mental  imnge.  Thus,  in  the 
case  of  Meyer’s  experiment,  of  looking  at  the  distant 
viaduct,  and  of  recognizing  an  artistic  representation, 
imagination  seems  in  a  measure  to  take  the  place  of 
sensation,  or  to  blind  the  mind  to  what  is  actually 
before  it. 

The  mystery  of  the  process,  however,  greatly  dis¬ 
appears  when  it  is  remembered  that  what  we  call  a 
conscious  “  sensation  ”  is  really  compounded  of  a  result 
of  sensory  stimulation  and  a  result  of  central  reaction, 
of  a  purely  passive  impression  and  the  mental  activity 
involved  in  attending  to  this  and  classing  it.1  This 
being  so,  a  sensation  may  be  modified  by  anything 
exceptional  in  the  mode  of  central  reaction  of  the 
moment.  Now,  in  all  the  cases  just  considered,  we 
have  one  common  feature,  a  powerful  suggestion  of 
the  presence  of  a  particular  object  or  local  arrange¬ 
ment.  This  suggestion,  taking  the  form  of  a  vivid 
mental  image,  dominates  and  overpowers  the  passive 

1  Sec,  on  this  point,  some  excellent  remarks  by  G.  H.  Lewes, 
Problems  of  Life  and  Mind ,  third  series,  vol.  ii.  p.  275. 


90 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


impression.  Thus,  in  Meyer’s  experim  ent,  the  mind  is 
possessed  by  the  supposition  that  we  are  looking  at  the 
grey  spot  through  a  greenish  medium.  So  in  the  case 
of  the  distant  viaduct,  we  are  under  the  mastery  of  the 
idea  that  what  we  see  in  the  distance  is  a  red  brick 
structure.  Once  more,  in  the  instance  of  looking  at 
the  picture,  the  spectator’s  imagination  is  enchained  by 
the  vivid  representation  of  the  object  for  which  the 
picture  stands,  as  the  marble  ruins  in  the  moonlight  or 
the  Bedouin  in  the  desert. 

It  may  be  well  to  add  that  this  mental  uncertainty 
as  to  the  exact  nature  of  a  present  impression  is  neces¬ 
sitated  by  the  very  conditions  of  accurate  perception. 
If,  as  I  have  said,  all  recognition  takes  place  by  over¬ 
looking  points  of  diversity,  the  mind  must,  in  course  of 
time,  acquire  a  habit  of  not  attending  to  the  exact 
quality  of  sense-impressions  in  all  cases  where  the 
interpretation  seems  plain  and  obvious.  Or,  to  use 
Helmholtz’s  words,  our  sensations  are,  in  a  general  way, 
of  interest  to  us  only  as  signs  of  things,  and  if  we  are 
sure  of  the  thing,  we  readily  overlook  the  precise  nature 
of  the  impression.  In  short,  we  get  into  the  way 
of  attending  only  to  what  is  essential,  constant,  and 
characteristic  in  objects,  and  disregarding  w'hat  is 
variable  and  accidental.1  Thus,  v'e  attend,  in  the  first 
place,  to  the  form  of  objects,  the  most  constant  and 
characteristic  element  of  all,  being  comparatively 

1  To  some  extent  this  applies  to  the  changes  of  apparent  magni¬ 
tude  due  to  altered  position.  Thus,  we  do  not  attend  to  the  reduction 
of  the  height  of  a  small  object  which  we  are  wont  to  handle,  when  it  is 
placed  far  below  the  level  of  the  eye.  And  hence  the  error  people 
make  in  judging  of  the  point  in  the  wall  or  skirting  which  a  hat  will 
reach  when  placed  on  the  ground. 


RECOGNITION  AS  INATTENTION. 


91 


inattentive  to  colour,  which  varies  with  distance,  atmo¬ 
spheric  changes,  and  mode  of  illumination.  So  we 
attend  to  the  relative  magnitude  of  objects  rather  than 
to  the  absolute,  and  to  the  relative  intensities  of  light 
and  shade  rather  than  to  the  absolute ;  for  in  so  doing 
we  are  noting  what  is  constant  for  all  distances  and 
modes  of  illumination,  and  overlooking  what  is  variable. 
And  the  success  of  pictorial  art  depends  on  the  ob¬ 
servance  of  this  law  of  perception. 

These  remarks  at  once  point  out  the  limits  of  these 
illusions.  In  normal  circumstances,  an  act  of  imagi¬ 
nation,  however  vivid,  cannot  create  the  semblance  of 
a  sensation  which  is  altogether  absent ;  it  can  only 
slightly  modify  the  actual  impression  by  interfering 
with  that  process  of  comparison  and  classification 
which  enters  into  all  definite  determination  of  sensa¬ 
tional  quality. 

Another  great  fact  that  has  come  to  light  in  the 
investigation  of  these  illusions  is  that  oft-recurring  and 
familiar  types  of  experience  leave  permanent  disposi¬ 
tions  in  the  mind.  As  I  said  when  describing  the  pro¬ 
cess  of  perception,  what  has  been  frequently  perceived 
is  perceived  more  and  more  readily.  It  follows  from 
this  that  the  mind  will  be  habitually  disposed  to  form 
the  corresponding  mental  images,  and  to  interpret 
impressions  by  help  of  these.  The  range  of  artistic 
suggestion  depends  on  this.  A  clever  draughtsman 
can  indicate  a  face  by  a  few  rough  touches,  and  this 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  spectator’s  mind  is  so 
familiarized,  through  recurring  experience  and  special 
interest,  with  the  object,  that  it  is  ready  to  construct 
the  requisite  mental  image  at  the  slightest  external 


92 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


suggestion.  And  hence  the  risk  of  hasty  and  illusory 
interpretation. 

These  observations  naturally  conduct  us  to  the 
consideration  of  the  second  great  group  of  sense- 
illusions,  which  I  have  marked  off  as  active  illusions, 
where  the  action  of  a  pre-existing  intellectual  dis¬ 
position  becomes  much  more  clearly  marked,  and 
assumes  the  form  of  a  free  imaginative  transformation 
of  reality. 


CHAPTER  Vi 

ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION — continued. 

B.  Active  Illusions. 

When  giving  an  account  of  the  mechanism  of  percep¬ 
tion,  I  spoke  of  an  independent  action  of  the  imagina¬ 
tion  which  tends  to  anticipate  the  process  of  suggestion 
from  without.  Thus,  when  expecting  a  particular 
friend,  I  recognize  his  form  much  more  readily  than 
when  my  mind  has  not  been  preoccupied  with  his 
image. 

A  little  consideration  will  show  that  this  process 
must  be  highly  favourable  to  illusion.  To  begin 
with,  even  if  the  preperception  be  correct,  that  is 
to  say,  if  it  answer  to  the  perception,  the  mere  fact 
of  vivid  expectation  will  affect  the  exact  moment  of 
the  completed  act  of  perception.  And  recent  experi¬ 
ment  shows  that  in  certain  cases  such  a  previous  activity 
of  expectant  attention  may  even  lead  to  the  illusory 
belief  that  the  perception  takes  place  before  it  actually 
does.1 

1  I  refer  to  the  experiments  made  by  Exner,  Wundt,  and  others,  in 
determining  the  time  elapsing  between  the  giving  of  a  signal  to  a 


94 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


A  more  palpable  source  of  error  resides  in  the  risk 
of  the  formation  of  an  inappropriate  preperception.  If 
a  wrong  mental  image  happens  to  have  been  formed 
and  vividly  entertained,  and  if  the  actual  impression 
fits  in  to  a  certain  extent  with  this  independently 
formed  preperception,  we  may  have  a  fusion  of  the 
two  which  exactly  simulates  the  form  of  a  complete 
percept.  Thus,  for  example,  in  the  case  just  supposed, 
if  another  person,  bearing  some  resemblance  to  our 
expected  friend,  chances  to  come  into  view,  we  may 
probably  stumble  into  the  error  of  taking  one  person 
lor  another. 

On  the  physical  side,  we  may,  agreeably  to  the 
hypothesis  mentioned  above,  express  this  result  by 
saying  that,  owing  to  a  partial  identity  in  the  nervous 
processes  involved  in  the  anticipatory  image  and  the 
impression,  the  two  tend  to  run  one  into  the  other,  con¬ 
stituting  one  continuous  process. 

There  are  different  ways  in  which  this  independent 
activity  of  the  imagination  may  falsify  our  perceptions. 
Thus,  we  may  voluntarily  choose  to  entertain  a  certain 
image  for  the  moment,  and  to  look  at  the  impression 
in  a  particular  way,  and  within  certain  limits  such  capri¬ 
cious  selection  of  an  interpretation  is  effectual  in  giving 
a  special  significance  to  an  impression.  Or  the  process 
of  independent  preperception  may  go  on  apart  from  our 
volitions,  and  perhaps  in  spite  of  these,  in  which  case 
the  illusion  has  something  of  the  irresistible  necessity 

person  and  the  execution  of  a  movement  in  response.  “  It  is  found,” 
says  Wundt,  “  by  these  experiments  that  the  exact  moment  at  which 
a  sense-impression  is  perceived  depends  on  the  atnouut  of  preparatory 
self-accommodation  of  attention.”  (See  Wundt,  Fhysiuluij incite  Psycho - 
loijie,  ch.  xix.,  especially  p.  735.  et  seq. ) 


PRE-PERCEPTION  AND  ILLUSION. 


95 


of  a  passive  illusion.  Let  us  consider  separately  each 
mode  of  production. 

Voluntary  Selection  of  Interpretation. 

The  action  of  a  capricious  exercise  of  the  imagina¬ 
tion  in  relation  to  an  impression  is  illustrated  in  those 
cases  where  experience  and  suggestion  offer  to  the 
interpreting  mind  an  uncertain  sound,  that  is  to  say, 
where  the  present  sense-signs  are  ambiguous.  Here 
we  obviously  have  a  choice  of  interpretation.  And  it 
is  found  that,  in  these  cases,  what  we  see  depends 
very  much  on  what  we  wish  to  see.  The  interpre¬ 
tation  adopted  is  still,  in  a  sense,  the  result  of  sug¬ 
gestion,  but  of  one  particular  suggestion  which  the 
fancy  of  the  moment  determines.  Or,  to  put  it 
another  way,  the  caprice  of  the  moment  causes  the 
attention  to  focus  itself  in  a  particular  manner,  to 
direct  itself  specially  to  certain  aspects  and  relations  of 
objects. 

The  eye’s  interpretation  of  movement,  already 
referred  to,  obviously  oilers  a  wide  field  for  this  play  of 
selective  imagination.  When  looking  out  of  the  win¬ 
dow  of  a  railway  carriage,  I  can  at  will  picture  to  my 
mind  the  trees  and  telegraph  posts  as  moving  objects. 
Sometimes  the  true  interpretation  is  so  uncertain  that 
the  least  inclination  to  view  the  phenomenon  in  one 
way  determines  the  result.  This  is  illustrated  in  a 
curious  observation  of  Sinsteden.  One  evening,  on 
approaching  a  windmill  obliquely  from  one  side,  which 
under  these  circumstances  he  saw  only  as  a  dark 
silhouette  against  a  bright  sky,  he  noticed  that  the 
sails  appeared  to  go,  now  in  one  direction,  now  in 


96 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


another,  according  as  he  imagined  himself  looking  at 
the  front  or  at  the  back  of  the  windmill.1 

In  the  interpretation  of  geometrical  drawings,  as 
those  of  crystals,  there  is,  as  I  have  observed,  a  general 
tendency  to  view  the  flat  delineation  as  answering  to  a 
raised  object,  or  a  body  in  relief,  according  to  the  com¬ 
mon  run  of  our  experience.  Yet  there  are  cases  where 
experience  is  less  decided,  and  where,  consequently,  we 
may  regard  any  particular  line  as  advancing  or  reced¬ 
ing.  And  it  is  found  that  when  we  vividly  imagine 
that  the  drawing  is  that  of  a  convex  or  concave  surface? 
we  see  it  to  be  so,  with  all  the  force  of  a  complete  per¬ 
ception.  The  least  disposition  to  see  it  in  the  other 
way  will  suffice  to  reverse  the  interpretation.  Thus, 
in  the  following  drawing,  the  reader  can  easily  see  at 


will  something  answering  to  a  truncated  pyramid,  or 
to  the  interior  of  a  cooking  vessel. 

Similarly,  in  the  accompanying  figure  of  a  trans¬ 
parent  solid,  I  can  at  will  select  either  of  the  two 
surfaces  which  approximately  face  the  eye  and  regard 


Quoted  by  Helmholtz,  op.  cit.,  p.  G26. 


VISUAL  SELECTION  OF  FORM. 


97 


it  as  the  nearer,  the  other  appearing  as  the  hinder 
surface  looked  at  through  the  body. 


/ 

_ 

z 

/ 

Fig.  6. 


Again,  in  the  next  drawing,  taken  from  Schroeder, 
one  may,  by  an  effort  of  will,  see  the  diagonal  step-like 
pattern,  either  as  the  view  from  above  of  the  edge  of 
an  advancing  piece  of  wall  at  a,  or  as  the  view  from 
below  of  the  edge  of  an  advancing  (overhanging)  piece 
of  wall  at  b. 


These  last  drawings  are  not  in  true  perspective  on 
either  of  the  suppositions  adopted,  wherefore  the  choice 
is  easier.  But  even  when  an  outline  form  is  in  per¬ 
spective,  a  strenuous  effort  of  imagination  may  suffice 
to  bring  about  a  conversion  of  the  appearance.  Thus, 
if  the  reader  will  look  at  the  drawing  of  the  box-like 
solid  (Fig.  3,  p.  79),  he  will  find  that,  after  a  trial  or 


98 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION 


two,  lie  succeeds  in  seeing  it  as  a  concave  figure  repre¬ 
senting  the  cover  and  two  sides  of  a  box  as  looked  at 
from  within.1 

Many  of  my  readers,  probably,  share  in  my  power 
of  variously  interpreting  the  relative  position  of  bands 
or  stripes  on  fabrics  such  as  wall-papers,  according 
to  wish.  I  find  that  it  is  possible  to  view  now  this 
stripe  or  set  of  stripes  as  standing  out  in  relief  upon 
the  others  as  a  ground,  now  these  others  as  advancing 
out  of  the  first  as  a  background.  The  difficulty  of 
selecting  either  interpretation  at  will  becomes  greater, 
of  course,  in  those  cases  where  there  is  a  powerful  sug¬ 
gestion  of  some  particular  local  arrangement,  as,  for 
example,  the  case  of  patterns  much  brighter  than  the 
ground,  and  especially  of  such  as  represent  known 
objects,  as  flowers.  Yet  even  here  a  strong  effort  of 
imagination  will  often  suffice  to  bring  about  a  conver¬ 
sion  of  the  first  appearance. 

A  somewhat  similar  choice  of  interpretation  offers 
itself  in  looking  at  elaborate  decorative  patterns. 
When  we  strongly  imagine  any  number  of  details  to  be 
elements  of  one  figure,  they  seem  to  become  so ;  and  a 
given  detail  positively  appears  to  alter  in  character 
according  as  it  is  viewed  as  an  element  of  a  more  or 
less  complex  figure. 

1  When  the  drawing,  by  its  adherence  to  the  laws  of  perspective, 
does  uot  powerfully  determine  the  eye  to  see  it  in  one  way  rather  than 
in  the  other  (as  in  Figs.  5  to  7),  the  disposition  to  see  the  one  form 
rather  than  the  other  points  to  differences  in  the  frequency  of  the 
original  forms  in  our  daily  experience.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  to  bo 
observed  that,  after  looking  at  the  drawing  for  a  time  under  each 
aspect,  the  suggestion  now  of  the  one  and  now  of  the  other  forces  itself 
on  the  mind  in  a  curious  and  unaccountable  way. 


FANCIFUL  INTERPRETATION. 


99 


These  examples  show  what  force  belongs  to  a  vi  vid 
pi’cconception,  if  this  happens  to  fit  only  very  roughly 
the  impression  of  the  moment,  that  is  to  say,  if  the 
interpretative  image  is  one  of  the  possible  suggestions 
of  the  impression.  The  play  of  imagination  takes  a 
wider  range  in  those  cases  where  the  impression  is  very 
indefinite  in  character,  easily  allowing  of  a  considerable 
variety  of  imaginative  interpretation. 

I  referred  at  the  beginning  of  this  account  of  sense- 
illusions  to  the  readiness  with  which  the  mind  deceives 
itself  with  respect  to  the  nature  and  causes  of  the  vague 
sensations  which  usually  form  the  dim  background  of 
our  mental  life.  A  person  of  lively  imagination,  by 
trying  to  view  these  in  a  particular  way,  and  by  selec¬ 
tively  attending  to  those  aspects  of  the  sensation  which 
answer  to  the  caprice  of  the  moment,  may  give  a 
variety  of  interpretations  to  one  and  the  same  set  of 
sensations.  For  example,  it  is  very  easy  to  get  con¬ 
fused  with  respect  to  those  tactual  and  motor  feelings 
w kick  inform  us  of  the  position  of  our  bodily  members. 
And  so,  when  lying  in  bed,  and  attending  to  the  sen¬ 
sations  connected  with  the  legs,  we  may  easily  delude 
ourselves  into  supposing  that  these  members  are 
arranged  in  a  most  eccentric  fashion.  Similarly,  by 
giving  special  heed  to  the  sensations  arising  in  connec¬ 
tion  w’ith  the  condition  of  the  skin  at  any  part,  we  may 
amuse  ourselves  with  the  strangest  fa  ;cies  as  to  what 
is  going  on  in  these  regions. 


Again,  when  any  object  of  visual  perception  is''-, 
indistinct  or  indefinite  in  form,  there  is  plainly  an 
opening  for  this  capricious  play  of  fancy  in  transform¬ 
ing  the  actual.  This  is  illustrated  in  the  well-known 


JOO 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


pastime  of  discovering  familiar  forms,  such  as  those 
of  the  human  head  and  animals,  in  distant  rocks  and 
clouds,  and  of  seeing  pictures  in  the  fire,  and  so  on. 
The  indistinct  and  indefinite  shapes  of  the  masses  of 
rock,  cloud,  or  glowing  coal,  offer  an  excellent  fi  _  Id  for 
creative  fancy,  and  a  person  of  lively  imagination  will 
discover  endless  forms  in  what,  to  an  unimaginative 
eye,  is  a  formless  waste.  Johannes  Muller  relates  that, 
when  a  child,  he  used  to  spend  hours  in  discovering 
the  outlines  of  forms  in  the  partly  blackened  and 
cracked  stucco  of  the  house  that  stood  opposite  to  his 
own.1  Here  it  is  plain  that,  while  experience  and 
association  are  not  wholly  absent,  but  place  certain 
wide  limits  on  this  process  of  castle-building,  the  spon¬ 
taneous  activity  of  the  percipient  mind  is  the  great 
determining  force. 

So  much  as  to  the  influence  of  a  perfectly  unfet¬ 
tered  voluntary  attention  on  the  determination  of  the 
stage  of  preperception,  and,  through  this,  of  the  result¬ 
ing  interpretation.  Let  us  now  pass  to  cases  in  which 
this  direction  of  preperception  follows  not  the  caprice  of 
the  moment,  but  the  leading  of  some  fixed  predisposi¬ 
tion  in  the  interpreter’s  mind.  In  these  cases  attention 
is  no  longer  free,  but  fettered,  only  it  is  now  fettered 
rather  from  within  than  from  without ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  dominating  preperception  is  much  more  the  result 
of  an  independent  bent  of  the  imagination  than  of  some 
suggestion  forced  on  the  mind  by  the  actual  impression 
of  the  moment. 


1  Ueber  die  phautastischen  Gesichtscrscheinungen,  p.  45. 


VISION  AND  BUNT  OF  IMAGINATION. 


101 


Involuntary  Mental  P readjustment. 

If  we  glance  back  at  tlie  examples  of  capricious 
selection  just  noticed,  we  shall  see  that  they  are 
really  limited  not  only  by  the  character  of  the  im¬ 
pression  of  the  time,  but  also  by  the  mental  habits 
of  the  spectator.  That  is  to  say,  we  find  that  his 
fancy  runs  in  certain  definite  directions,  and  takes 
certain  habitual  forms.  It  has  already  been  observed 
that  the  percipient  mind  has  very  different  attitudes 
with  respect  to  various  kinds  of  impression.  Towards 
some  it  holds  itself  at  a  distance,  while  towards  others 
it  at  once  bears  itself  familiarly ;  the  former  are  such 
as  answer  to  its  previous  habit  and  bent  of  imagination, 
the  latter  such  as  do  not  so  answer. 

This  bent  of  the  interpretative  imagination  assumes, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  two  forms,  that  of  a  compara¬ 
tively  permanent  disposition,  and  that  of  a  temporary 
state  of  expectation  or  mental  preparedness.  Illusion 
may  arise  in  connection  with  either  of  these  forms. 
Let  us  illustrate  both  varieties,  beginning  with  those 
which  are  due  to  a  lasting  mental  disposition. 

It  is  impossible  here  to  specify  all  the  causes  of 
illusion  residing  in  organized  tendencies  of  the  mind. 
The  whole  past  mental  life,  with  its  particular  shade 
of  experience,  its  ruling  emotions,  and  its  habitual 
direction  ot  fancy,  serves  to  give  a  particular  colour 
to  new  impressions,  and  so  to  favour  illusion.  There 
is  a  “  personal  equation  ”  in  perception  as  in  belief — 
an  amount  of  erroneous  deviation  from  the  common 
average  view  of  external  things,  which  is  the  outcome 
of  individual  temperament  and  habits  of  mind.  Thus 


102 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


a  naturally  timid  man  will  be  in  general  disposed  to 
see  ugly  and  fearful  objects  where  a  perfectly  un¬ 
biased  mind  perceives  nothing  of  the  kind ;  and  the 
forms  which  these  objects  of  dread  will  assume  are  de¬ 
termined  by  the  character  of  his  past  experience,  and 
by  the  customary  direction  of  his  imagination. 

In  perfectly  healthy  states  of  mind  this  influence 
of  temperament  and  mental  habit  on  the  perception 
of  external  objects  is,  of  course,  very  limited  ;  it  shows 
itself  more  distinctly,  as  we  shall  see,  in  modifying 
the  estimate  of  things  in  relation  to  the  aesthetic  and 
other  feelings.  This  applies  to  the  mythical  poetical 
way  of  looking  at  nature — a  part  of  our  subject  to 
which  we  shall  have  to  return  later  on. 

Passing  now  from  the  effect  of  such  permanent 
dispositions,  let  us  look  at  the  more  striking  results 
of  temporary  expectancy  of  mind. 

When  touching  on  the  influence  of  such  a  tempo¬ 
rary  mental  attitude  in  the  process  of  correct  per¬ 
ception,  I  remarked  that  this  readiness  of  mind  might 
assume  an  indefinite  or  a  definite  form.  We  will 
examine  the  effect  of  each  kind  in  the  production  of 
illusion. 


Action  of  Sub-Expectation. 

First  of  all,  then,  our  minds  may  at  the  particular 
moment  be  disposed  to  entertain  any  one  of  a  vaguely 
circumscribed  group  of  images.  Thus,  to  return  to 
the  example  already  referred  to,  when  in  Italy,  we  are 
in  a  state  of  readiness  to  frame  any  of  the  images 
that  we  have  learnt  to  associate  with  this  country. 
We  may  not  be  distinctly  anticipating  any  one  kind 


TEMPORABY  BENT  OF  IMAGINATION. 


103 


of  object,  but  are  nevertheless  in  a  condition  of  sub¬ 
expectation  with  reference  to  a  large  number  of  objects. 
Accordingly,  when  an  impression  occurs  which  answers 
only  very  roughly  to  one  of  the  associated  images, 
there  is  a  tendency  to  superimpose  the  image  on  the 
impression.  In  this  way  illusion  arises.  Thus,  a  man, 
when  strolling  in  a  cathedral,  will  be  apt  to  take  any 
kind  of  faint  hollow  sound  for  the  soft  tones  of  an 
organ. 

The  disposition  to  anticipate  fact  and  reality  in  this 
way  will  be  all  the  stronger  if,  as  usually  happens, 
the  mental  images  thus  lying  ready  for  use  have  an 
emotional  colouring.  Emotion  is  the  great  disturber 
of  all  intellectual  operations.  It  effects  marvellous 
things,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  in  the  region  of 
illusory  belief,  and  its  influence  is  very  marked  in  the 
seemingly  cooler  region  of  external  perception.  The 
effect  of  any  emotional  excitement  appears  to  be  to 
give  a  preternatural  vividness  and  persistence  to  the 
ideas  answering  to  it,  that  is  to  say,  the  ideas  which  are 
its  excitants,  or  which  are  otherwise  associated  with 
it.  Owing  to  this  circumstance,  when  the  mind  is 
under  the  temporary  sway  of  any  feeling,  as,  for  ex¬ 
ample,  fear,  there  will  be  a  special  readiness  to  interpret 
objects  by  help  of  images  congruent  with  the  emotion. 
Thus,  a  man  under  the  control  of  fear  will  be  ready 
to  see  any  kind  of  fear-inspiring  object  whenever  there 
is  auy  resemblance  to  such  in  the  things  actually 
present  to  his  vision.  The  state  of  awe  which  the  sur¬ 
rounding  circumstances  of  a  spiritualist  seance  inspires 
produces  a  general  readiness  of  mind  to  perceive  what 
is  strange,  mysterious,  and  apparently  miraculous. 


104 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


It  is  worth  noting,  perhaps,  that  those  delightful 
half-illusions  which  imitative  art  seeks  to  produce  are 
greatly  favoured  by  such  a  temporary  attitude  of  the 
interpreting  imagination.  In  the  theatre,  for  example, 
we  are  prepared  for  realizing  the  semblance  of  life 
that  is  to  be  unfolded  before  us.  We  come  knowing 
that  what  is  to  be  performed  aims  at  representing  a 
real  action  or  actual  series  of  events.  We  not  impro¬ 
bably  work  ourselves  into  a  slightly  excited  state  in 
anticipation  of  such  a  representation.  More  than  this, 
as  the  play  progresses,  the  realization  of  what  has 
gone  before  produces  a  strong  disposition  to  believe  in 
the  reality  of  what  is  to  follow.  And  this  effect  is  pro¬ 
portionate  to  the  degree  of  coherence  and  continuity 
in  the  action.  In  this  way,  there  is  a  cumulative 
effect  on  the  mind.  If  the  action  is  good,  the  illusion, 
as  every  play-goer  knows,  is  most  complete  towards 
the  end. 

Were  it  not  for  all  this  mental  preparation,  the  illu¬ 
sory  character  of  the  performance  would  be  too  patent 
to  view,  and  our  enjoyment  would  suffer.  A  man  is 
often  aware  of  this  when  coming  into  a  theatre  during 
the  progress  of  a  piece  before  his  mind  accommodates 
itself  to  the  meaning  of  the  play.  And  the  same 
thing  is  recognizable  in  the  fact  that  the  frequenter 
of  the  theatre  has  his  susceptibility  to  histrionic 
delusion  increased  by  acquiring  a  habit  of  looking  out 
for  the  meaning  of  the  performance.  Persons  who 
first  see  a  play,  unless  they  be  of  exceptional  imagina¬ 
tion  and  have  thought  much  about  the  theatre — as 
Charlotte  Bronte,  for  instance — hardly  feel  the  illusion 
at  all.  At  least,  this  is  true  of  the  opera,  where  the 


PREADJUSTMENT  IN  ART  ILLUSION. 


105 


departure  from  reality  is  so  striking  that  the  im¬ 
pression  can  hardly  fail  to  be  a  ludicrous  one,  till  the 
habit  of  taking  the  performance  for  what  it  is  intended 
to  be  is  fully  formed.1 

A  similar  effect  of  intellectual  preadjustment  is 
observable  in  the  fainter  degrees  of  illusion  produced 
by  pictorial  art.  Here  the  undeceiving  circumstances, 
the  flat  surface,  the  surroundings,  and  so  on,  would 
sometimes  be  quite  sufficient  to  prevent  the  least 
degree  of  illusion,  were  it  not  that  the  spectator  comes 
prepared  to  see  a  representation  of  some  real  object. 
This  is  our  state  of  mind  when  we  enter  a  picture 
gallery  or  approach  what  we  recognize  as  a  picture 
on  the  wall  of  a  room.  A  savage  would  not  “  realize  ” 
a  slight  sketch  as  soon  as  one  accustomed  to  pictorial 
representation,  and  ready  to  perform  the  required  in¬ 
terpretative  act.2 

So  much  as  to  the  effect  of  an  indefinite  state  of 
sub-expectation  in  misleading  our  perceptions.  Let 
us  now  glance  at  the  results  of  definite  preimagination, 
including  what  are  generally  known  as  expectations. 

’  Another  side  of  histrionic  illusion,  the  reading  of  the  imitated 
feelings  into  the  actors’  minds,  will  be  dealt  with  in  a  later  chapter. 

2  In  a  finished  painting  of  any  size  this  preparation  is  hardly 
necessary.  In  these  cases,  in  spite  of  the  great  deviations  from  truth 
in  pictorial  representation  already  touched  on,  the  amount  of  essential 
agreement  is  so  large  and  so  powerful  in  its  effect  I  hat  even  an 
intelligent  animal  will  experience  an  illusion.  Mr.  Romanes  sends 
me  an  interesting  account  of  a  dog,  that  had  never  been  accustomed 
to  pictures,  having  been  put  into  a  state  of  great  excitement  by  the 
introduction  of  a  poi trait  into  a  room,  ou  a  level  with  his  eye.  it  is 
not  at  all  improbable  that  the  lower  animals,  even  when  sane,  are  fre¬ 
quently  the  subjects  of  slight  illusion.  That  animals  dream  is  a  fact 
wnich  is  observed  as  long  ago  as  the  age  of  Lucretius 
6 


106 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


Effects  of  Vivid  Expectation. 

Such  expectations  may  grow  out  of  some  present 
objective  facts,  which  serve  as  signs  of  the  expected 
event ;  or  they  may  arise  by  way  of  verbal  suggestion  ; 
or,  finally,  they  may  be  due  to  internal  spontaneous 
imagination. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  the  expectations  may  grow 
out  of  previous  perceptions,  while,  nevertheless,  the 
direction  of  the  expectation  may  be  a  wrong  one. 
Here  the  interpreting  imagination  is,  in  a  large  sense, 
under  the  control  of  external  suggestion,  though,  with 
respect  to  the  particular  impression  that  is  miscon¬ 
strued,  it  may  be  regarded  as  acting  independently 
aud  spontaneously. 

Illustrations  of  this  effect  in  producing  illusion 
will  easily  occur  to  the  reader.  If  I  happen  to  have 
heard  that  a  particular  person  has  b  en  a  soldier 
or  clergyman,  I  tend  to  see  the  marks  of  the  class 
in  this  person,  and  sometimes  find  that  this  process 
of  recognition  is  altogether  illusory.  Again,  let  us 
suppose  that  a  person  is  expecting  a  friend  by  a 
particular  train.  A  passenger  steps  out  of  the  train 
bearing  a  superficial  resemblance  to  his  friend ;  in 
consequence  of  which  he  falls  into  the  error  of  false 
identification. 

The  delusions  of  the  conjuror  depend  on  a  similar 
principle.  The  performer  tells  his  audience  that  he  is 
about  to  do  a  certain  thing,  for  example,  take  a  number 
of  animals  out  of  a  small  box  which  is  incapable  of 
holding  them.  The  hearers,  intent  on  what  has  been 
said,  vividly  represent  to  themselves  the  action  de- 


DELUSIONS  OF  THE  CONJUROR 


107 


scribed.  And  in  this  way  their  attention  becomes 
bribed,  so  to  speak,  beforehand,  and  fails  to  notice  the 
inconspicuous  movements  which  would  at  once  clear 
up  the  mystery.  Similarly  with  respect  to  the  illusions 
which  overtake  people  at  spiritualist  seances.  The  in¬ 
tensity  of  the  expectation  of  a  particular  kind  of  object 
excludes  calm  attention  to  what  really  happens,  and 
the  slightest  impressions  which  answer  to  signs  of  the 
object  anticipated  are  instantly  seized  by  the  mind  and 
worked  up  into  illusory  perceptions. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  even  when  the  impression 
cannot  be  made  to  tally  exactly  with  the  expectation, 
the  force  of  the  latter  often  effects  a  grotesque  con¬ 
fusion  of  the  perception.  If,  for  example,  a  man  goes 
into  a  familiar  room  in  the  dark  in  order  to  fetch 
something,  and  for  a  moment  forgets  the  particular 
door  by  which  he  has  entered,  his  definite  expectation 
of  finding  things  in  a  certain  order  may  blend  with  the 
order  of  impressions  experienced,  producing  for  the 
moment  a  most  comical  illusion  as  to  the  actual  state 
of  things. 

When  the  degree  of  expectation  is  unusually  great, 
it  may  suffice  to  produce  something  like  the  counterfeit 
of  a  real  sensation.  This  happens  when  the  present 
circumstances  are  powerfully  suggestive  of  an  im¬ 
mediate  event.  The  effect  is  all  the  more  powerful, 
moreover,  in  those  cases  where  the  object  or  event 
expected  is  interesting  or  exciting,  since  here  the 
mental  image  gains  in  vividness  through  the  emotional 
excitement  attending  it.  Thus,  if  I  am  watching  a 
train  off  and  know  from  all  the  signs  that  it  is  just 
about  to  start,  I  easily  delude  myself  into  the  con- 


10S 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


viction  that  it  has  begun  to  start,  when  it  is  really 
still.1  An  intense  degree  of  expectation  may,  in  such 
eases,  produce  something  indistinguishable  from  an 
actual  sensation.  This  effect  is  seen  in  such  common 
experiences  as  that  the  sight  of  food  makes  the  mouth 
of  a  hungry  man  water ;  that  the  appearance  of  a 
surgical  instrument  produces  a  nascent  sensation  of 
pain ;  and  that  a  threatening  movement,  giving  a 
vivid  anticipation  of  tickling,  begets  ti  feeling  which 
closely  approximates  to  the  result  of  actual  tickling. 

One  or  two  very  striking  instances  of  such  imagined 
sensations  are  given  by  Dr.  Carpenter.2  Here  is  one. 
An  officer  who  superintended  the  exhuming  of  a  coffin 
rendered  necessary  through  a  suspicion  of  crime, 
declared  that  he  already  experienced  the  odour  of 
decomposition,  though  it  was  afterwards  found  that 
the  coffin  was  empty.3 

It  is,  of  course,  often  difficult  to  say,  in  such  cases 
as  these,  how  far  elements  of  actual  sensation  co-operate 
in  the  production  of  the  illusions.  Thus,  in  the  case 
just  mentioned,  the  odour  of  the  earth  may  have  been 
the  starting-point  in  the  illusion.  In  many  cases,  how¬ 
ever,  an  imaginative  mind  appears  to  be  capable  of 


'  This  hind  of  illusion  is  probably  facilitated  by  the  fact  that  the 
(  ye  is  often  performing  slight  movements  without  any  clear  conscious¬ 
ness  of  them.  See  what  was  said  about  the  limits  of  sensibility,  p  50. 

1  Menial  Physiology ,  fourth  edit.,  p.  15S. 

3  In  persons  of  veiy  lively  imagination  the  mere  representation  of 
an  object  or  event  may  suffice  lo  bring  al  out  such  a  semblance  of 
sensation.  Thus,  M.  Taine  (op.  cit.,  vol.  i.  p.  94)  vouches  for  the 
assertion  that  “one  of  the  most  exact  and  lucid  of  modern  novelists,” 
when  working  out  in  his  imagination  the  poisoning  of  one  of  his 
fictitious  characters,  had  so  vivid  a  gustatory  sensation  of  arsenic  th*  t 
he  was  atlacked  by  a  violent  fit  of  indigestion. 


GROSSER  ACTIVE  ILLUSIONS.  10U 

transforming  a  vivid  expectation  into  a  nascent  stage 
of  sensation.  Thus,  a  mother  thinking  of  her  sick 
child  in  an  adjoining  room,  and  keenly  on  the  alert 
for  its  voice,  will  now  and  again  fancy  she  really 
hears  it  when  others  hear  nothing  at  all. 


Transition  to  Hallucination. 

It  is  plain  that  in  these  cases  illusion  approaches 
to  hallucination.  Imagination,  instead  of  waiting  on 
sensation,  usurps  its  place  and  imitates  its  appearance. 
Such  a  “  subjective  ”  sensation  produced  by  a  powerful 
expectation  might,  perhaps,  by  a  stretch  of  language, 
be  regarded  as  an  illusion,  in  the  narrow  sense,  in  so 
far  as  it  depends  on  the  suggestive  force  of  a  com¬ 
plete  set  of  external  circumstances;  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  clearly  an  hallucination  in  so  far  as  it  is  the 
production  of  the  semblance  of  an  external  impres¬ 
sion  without  any  external  agency  corresponding  to 
this. 

In  the  class  of  illusory  expectations  just  considered 
the  immediately  present  environment  still  plays  a  part, 
though  a  much  less  direct  part  than  that  observable 
in  the  first  large  group  of  illusions.  We  will  now  pass 
to  a  second  mode  of  illusory  expectation,  where 
imagination  is  still  more  detached  from  the  present 
surroundings. 

A  common  instance  of  this  kind  of  expectation  is 
the  so-called  “intuition,”  or  presentiment,  that  some¬ 
thing  is  going  to  happen,  which  expectation  has  no 
basis  in  fact.  It  does  not  matter  whether  the  expecta¬ 
tion  has  arisen  by  way  of  another’s  words  or  by  way 


110 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


of  personal  inclinations.  A  strong  wish  for  a  thing 
will,  in  an  exalted  state  of  mind,  beget  a  vivid 
anticipation  of  it.  This  subject  will  be  touched  on 
again  under  the  Illusions  of  Belief.  Here  I  am  con¬ 
cerned  to  point  out  that  such  presentiments  are  fertile 
sources  of  sense-illusion.  The  history  of  Church 
miracles,  visions,  and  the  like  amply  illustrates  the 
effect  of  a  vivid  anticipation  in  falsifying  the  percep¬ 
tions  of  external  things. 

In  persons  of  a  lively  imagination  any  recent 
occupation  of  the  mind  with  a  certain  kind  of  mental 
image  may  suffice  to  beget  something  equivalent  to  a 
powerful  mode  of  expectation.  For  example,  we  are 
told  by  Dr.  Tuke  that  on  one  occasion  a  lady,  whose 
imagination  had  been  dwelling  on  the  subject  of 
drinking  fountains,  “thought  she  saw  in  a  road  a  newly 
erected  fountain,  and  even  distinguished  an  inscription 
upon  it,  namely,  ‘  If  any  man  thirst,  let  him  come 
unto  Me,  and  drink.’  She  afterwards  found  that  what 
she  had  actually  seen  was  only  a  few  scattered  stones.” 1 
In  many  cases  there  seems  to  be  a  temporary  preter¬ 
natural  activity  of  the  imagination  in  certain  directions, 
of  which  no  very  obvious  explanation  is  discoverable. 
Thus,  we  sometimes  find  our  minds  dwelling  on  some 
absent  friend,  without  being  able  to  give  any  reason 
for  this  mental  preoccupation.  And  in  this  way  arise 
strong  temporary  leanings  to  illusory  perception.  It 
may  be  said,  indeed,  that  all  unwonted  activity  of  the 
imagination,  however  it  arises,  has  as  its  immediate 
result  a  temporary  mode  of  expectation,  definite  or 

1  Mentioned  by  Dr.  Carpenter  ( Mental  Flujsiology,  p.  207),  where 
other  suiious  examples  are  to  be  found. 


ACTIVE  ILLUSION  AND  HALLUCINATION.  Ill 


indefinite,  which  easily  confuses  our  perceptions  of 
external  things. 

In  proportion  as  this  pre-existing  imaginative 
impulse  becomes  more  powerful,  the  amount  of  actual 
impression  necessary  to  transform  the  mental  image 
into  an  illusory  perception  becomes  less ;  and,  what  is 
more  important,  this  transformation  of  the  internal 
image  involves  a  larger  and  larger  displacement  of  the 
actual  impression  of  the  moment.  A  man  whose  mind 
is  at  the  time  strongly  possessed  by  one  kind  of  image, 
will  tend  to  project  this  outwards  with  hardly  any 
regard  to  the  actual- external  circumstances. 

This  state  of  things  is  most  completely  illustrated 
in  many  of  the  grosser  illusions  of  the  insane.  Thus, 
when  a  patient  takes  any  small  objects,  as  pebbles,  for 
gold  and  silver,  under  the  influence  of  the  dominant 
idea  of  being  a  millionaire,  it  is  obvious  that  external 
suggestion  has  very  little  to  do  with  the  self-deception. 
The  confusions  into  which  the  patient  often  falls  with 
respect  to  the  persons  before  him  show  the  same  state 
of  mind ;  for  in  many  cases  there  is  no  discoverable 
individual  resemblance  between  the  person  actually 
present  and  the  person  for  whom  he  is  taken. 

It  is  evident  that  when  illusion  reaches  this  stage, 
it  is  scarcely  distinguishable  from  what  is  specially 
known  as  hallucination.  As  I  have  remarked  in 
setting  out,  illusion  and  hallucination  shade  one  into 
the  other  much  too  gradually  for  us  to  draw  any  sharp 
line  of  demarcation  between  them.  And  here  we  see 
that  hallucination  differs  from  illusion  only  in  the  pro¬ 
portion  in  which  the  causes  are  present.  When  tho 
internal  imaginative  impulse  reaches  a  certain  strength, 


112 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PEECEPTION. 


it  becomes  self-sufficient,  or  independent  of  any  ex¬ 
ternal  impression. 

This  intimate  relation  between  the  extreme  form 
of  active  illusion  and  hallucination  may  be  seen,  too. 
by  examining  the  physical  conditions  of  each.  As  I 
have  already  remarked,  active  illusion  has  for  its 
physiological  basis  a  state  of  sub-excitation,  or  an 
exceptional  condition  of  irritability  in  the  structures 
engaged  in  the  act  of  interpretative  imagination.  The 
greater  the  degree  of  this  irritability,  the  less  will  be 
the  force  of  external  stimulation  needed  to  produce 
the  effect  of  excitation,  and  the  more  energetic  will 
be  the  degree  of  this  excitation.  Moreover,  it  is  plain 
that  this  increase  in  the  strength  of  the  excitation 
will  involve  an  extension  of  the  area  of  excitation 
till,  by-and-by,  the  peripheral  regions  of  the  nervous 
system  may  be  involved  just  as  in  the  case  of  external 
stimulation.  This  accounts  for  the  gradual  displace¬ 
ment  of  the  impression  of  the  moment  by  the  mental 
image.  It  follows  that  when  the  irritability  reaches 
a  certain  degree,  the  amount  of  external  stimulus 
needed  may  become  a  vanishing  quantity,  or  the  state 
of  sub-excitation  may  of  itself  develop  into  one  of 
full  activity. 

Hallucinations. 

I  do  not  propose  to  go  very  fully  into  the  de¬ 
scription  and  explanation  of  hallucinations  here,  since 
they  fall  to  a  large  extent  under  the  category  of 
distinctly  pathological  phenomena.  Yet  our  study  of 
illusions  would  not  be  complete  without  a  glance  at 
this  part  of  the  subject. 


RUDIMENTARY  HALLUCINATIONS. 


113 


Hallucination,  by  which  I  mean  the  projection  of 
a  mental  image  outwards  when  there  is  no  external 
agency  answering  to  it,  assumes  one  of  two  fairly 
distinct  forms :  it  may  present  itself  either  as  a  sem¬ 
blance  of  an  external  impression  with  the  minimum 
amount  of  interpretation,  or  as  a  counterfeit  of  a 
completely  developed  percept.  Thus,  a  visual  hallu¬ 
cination  may  assume  the  aspect  of  a  sensation  of 
light  or  colour  which  we  vaguely  refer  to  a  certain 
region  of  the  external  world,  or  of  a  vision  of  some 
recognizable  object.  All  of  us  frequently  have  in¬ 
complete  visual  and  auditory  hallucinations  of  the 
first  order,  whereas  the  complete  hallucinations  of 
the  second  order  are  comparatively  rare.  The  first 
I  shall  call  rudimentary,  the  second  developed,  hallu¬ 
cinations. 

Rudimentary  hallucinations  may  have  either  a 
peripheral  or  a  central  origin.  They  may  first  of  all 
have  their  starting-point  in  those  subjective  sensations 
which,  as  we  have  seen,  are  connected  with  certain 
processes  set  up  in  the  peripheral  regions  of  the  ner¬ 
vous  system.  Or,  secondly,  they  may  originate  in  a 
certain  preternatural  activity  of  the  sensory  centres,  or 
“  sensorium,”  in  what  has  been  called  by  German 
physiologists  an  automatic  excitation  of  the  central 
structures,  which  activity  may  probably  diffuse  itself 
downwards  to  the  peripheral  regions  of  the  nerves. 
Baillarger  would  call  hallucinations  of  the  former 
class  “  psycho-sensorial,”  those  of  the  latter  class 
purely  “psychical,”  hallucinations.1 

1  See  Annates  Medico  rsycholorjiques,  tom.  vi.  p.  1GQ,  etc.;  tom.  vil 

p.  1,  etc. 


114 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


It  is  often  a  matter  of  great  difficulty  to  determine 
which  part  of  the  nervous  system  is  originally  concerned 
in  these  rudimentary  hallucinations.  It  is  probable 
that  iu  normal  life  they  are  most  frequently  due  to 
peripheral  disturbance.  And  ir  seems  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  where  the  hallucination  remains  in  this 
initial  stage  of  a  very  incompletely  interpreted  visual 
or  auditory  impression,  whether  in  normal  or  abnormal 
life,  its  real  physiological  source  is  the  periphery. 
For  the  automatic  excitation  of  the  centres  would 
pretty  certainly  issue  in  the  semblance  of  some  definite, 
familiar  variety  of  sense-impression  which,  moreover, 
as  a  part  of  a  complex  state  known  as  a  percept,  would 
instantly  present  itself  as  a  completely  formed  quasi¬ 
percept.  In  truth,  wre  may  pretty  safely  argue  that  if 
it  is  the  centre  which  is  directly  thrown  into  a  state 
of  activity,  it  will  be  thrown  into  the  usual  complex, 
that  is  to  say,  perceptional,  mode  of  activity. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  hallucinations  properly  so 
called,  that  is  to  say,  completely  developed  quasi-per¬ 
cepts.  These  commonly  assume  the  form  of  visual  or 
auditory  hallucinations.  Like  the  incomplete  halluci¬ 
nations,  they  may  have  their  starting-point  either  in 
some  disturbance  in  the  peripheral  regions  of  the 
nervous  system  or  in  the  automatic  activity  of  the 
central  structures :  or,  to  use  the  language  of  Baillarger, 
we  may  say  that  they  are  either  “psycho-sensorial”  or 
purely  “psychical.”  A  subjective  visual  sensation, 
arising  from  certain  conditions  in  the  retina  and  con¬ 
nected  portions  of  the  optic  nerve,  may  by  chance 
resemble  a  familiar  impression,  and  so  be  at  once 
interpreted  as  an  effect  of  a  particular  external  object. 


DEVELOPED  HALLUCINATIONS. 


115 


More  frequently,  however,  the  automatic  activity  of  the 
centres  must  be  regarded,  either  in  part  or  altogether, 
as  the  physiological  cause  of  the  phenomenon.  This 
is  clearly  the  case  when,  on  the  subjective  side,  the 
hallucination  answers  to  a  preceding  energetic  activity 
of  the  imagination,  as  in  the  case  of  the  visionary  and 
the  monomaniac.  Sometimes,  however,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  hallucinatory  percept  answers  to  previous  pro¬ 
longed  acts  of  perception,  leaving  a  kind  of  reverbera¬ 
tion  in  the  structures  concerned;  and  in  this  case  it  is 
obviously  impossible  to  say  whether  the  peripheral  or 
central  regions  (if  either)  have  most  to  do  with  the 
hallucination.1 

The  classifications  of  the  causes  of  hallucination  to 
be  met  with  in  the  works  of  pathologists,  bear  out  the 
distinction  just  drawn.  Griesinger  tells  us  ( op .  cit., 
pp.  94,  95)  that  the  general  causes  of  hallucination 
are  :  (1)  Local  disease  of  the  organ  of  sense  ;  (2)  a  state 
of  deep  exhaustion  either  of  mind  or  of  body;  (b) 
morbid  emotional  states,  such  as  fear ;  (4)  outward  calm 
and  stillness  between  sleeping  and  waking ;  and  (5)  the 
action  of  certain  poisons,  as  haschisch,  opium,  bella¬ 
donna.  The  first  cause  points  pretty  distinctly  to  a 
peripheral  origin,  whereas  the  others  appear  to  refer 
mainly,  if  not  exclusively,  to  central  derangements. 

1  I  have  already  touched  on  the  resonance  of  a  sense-impression 
when  the  stimulus  has  ceased  to  act  (see  p.  51).  The  remarks  in  the 
text  hold  good  of  all  such  after  impressions,  in  so  far  as  they  ta\e  the 
form  of  fully  developed  percepts.  A  good  example  is  the  recurrence 
of  the  images  of  microscopic  preparations,  to  which  the  anatomist  is 
liable.  (See  Lewes,  Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,  third  series,  vol.  ii.  p. 
2TJ.)  Since  a  complete  hallucination  is  supposed  to  involve  the  peri¬ 
pheral  regions  of  the  nerve,  the  mere  fact  of  shutting  the  eye  would 
not,  it  is  clear,  serve  as  a  test  of  the  origin  of  the  illusion. 


116 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


Excessive  fatigue  appears  to  predispose  the  central 
structures  to  an  abnormal  kind  of  activity,  and  the  same 
effect  may  be  brought  about  by  emotional  agitation  and 
by  the  action  of  poisons.  The  fourth  case  mentioned 
Here,  absence  of  external  stimulation,  would  naturally 
raise  the  nervous  structures  to  an  exceptional  pitch  of 
excitability.  Suck  a  condition  would,  moreover,  prove 
favourable  to  hallucination  by  blurring  the  distinction 
between  mental  image  and  actual  impression. 

Hallucinations  of  Normal  Life. 

In  normal  life,  perfect  hallucinations,  in  the  strict 
sense  as  distinct  from  illusions,  are  comparatively  rare. 
Fully  developed  persistent  hallucinations,  as  those  of 

Nicolai,  the  Berlin  bookseller,  and  of  Mrs.  A - ,  the 

lady  cited  by  Sir  D.  Brewster,  in  his  Letters  on  Natural 
Magic,  point  to  the  presence  of  incipient  nervous 
disorder.  In  healthy  life,  on  the  other  hand,  while 
everybody  is  familiar  with  subjective  sensations  such  as 
flying  spots,  phosphcnes,  ringing  in  the  ears,  few  fall 
into  the  error  of  seeing  or  hearing  distinct  recognizable 
objects  in  the  absence  of  all  external  impressions.  In 
the  lives  of  eminent  men  we  read  of  such  phenomena  as 
very  occasional  events.  Malebranche,  for  example,  is 
said  to  have  heard  the  voice  of  God  calling  him. 
Descartes  says  that,  after  a  long  confinement,  he  was 
followed  by  an  invisible  person,  calling  him  to  pursue 
his  search  for  truth.  Dr.  Johnson  narrates  that  he 
once  heard  his  absent  mother  calling  him.  Byron  tells 
us  that  he  was  sometimes  visited  by  spectres.  Goethe 
records  that  he  once  saw  an  exact  counterpart  of  him- 


HALLUCINATION  IN  SANITY. 


117 


self  coming  towards  him.  Sir  Walter  Scott  is  said  to 
have  seen  a  phantom  of  the  dead  Byron.  It  is  possible 
that  all  of  us  are  liable  to  momentary  hallucinations  at 
times  of  exceptional  nervous  exhaustion,  though  they 
are  too  fugitive  to  excite  our  attention. 

When  not  brought  on  by  exhaustion  or  artificial 
means,  the  hallucinations  of  the  sane  have  their  origin 
in  a  preternatural  power  of  imagination.  It  is  well 
known  that  this  power  can  be  greatly  improved  by 
attention  and  cultivation.  Goethe  used  to  exercise  him¬ 
self  in  watching  for  ocular  spectra,  and  could  at  will 
transform  these  subjective  sensations  into  definite  forms, 
such  as  flowers  ;  and  Johannes  Muller  found  he  had  the 
same  power.1  Stories  are  told  of  portrait  painters  who 
could  summon  visual  images  of  their  sitters  with  a 
vividness  equal  to  that  of  reality,  and  serving  all  the 
purposes  of  their  art.  Mr.  Galton’s  interesting  inquiries 
into  the  power  of  “  visualizing  ”  would  appear  to  prove 
that  many  people  can  at  will  sport  on  the  confines  of 
the  phantom  world  of  hallucination.  There  is  good 
reason  to  think  that  imaginative  children  tend  to  con¬ 
fuse  mental  images  and  percepts.2 

1  That  subjective  sensation  may  become  the  starling. point  in 
complete  hallucination  is  shown  in  a  curious  instance  given  by 
Lazarus,  and  quoted  by  Tame.  op.  cit.,  vol.  i.  p.  122,  $t  seq.  The 
German  psychologist  relates  that,  on  one  occasion  in  Switzerland,  after 
gazing  for  some  time  on  a  chain  of  snow-peaks,  he  saw  an  apparition  of 
an  absent  friend,  looking  like  a  corpse.  He  goes  on  to  explain  that 
this  phantom  was  the  product  of  an  image  of  recollection  which  some¬ 
how  managed  to  combine  itself  with  the  (positive)  after-image  left  by 
the  impression  of  the  snow-surface. 

2  For  an  account  of  Mr.  Galton’s  researches,  see  Mind,  No.  xix. 
Compare,  however,  ProLssor  Bain’s  judicious  observations  on  these 


IIS 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


The  Hallucinations  of  Insaniti/. 

The  hallucinations  of  the  insane  are  but  a  fuller 
manifestation  of  forces  that  we  see  at  work  in  normal 
life.  Their  characteristic  is  that  they  simulate  the  form 
of  distinctly  present  objects,  the  existence  of  which  is 
not  instantly  contradicted  by  the  actual  surroundings 
of  the  moment.1  The  hallucinations  have  their  origin 
partly  in  subjective  sensations,  which  are  probably 
connected  with  peripheral  disturbances,  partly  and 
principally  in  central  derangements.2  These  include 
profound  emotional  changes,  which  affect  the  ruling 
mental  tone,  and  exert  a  powerful  influence  on  the 
course  of  the  mental  images.  The  hallucinations  of 
insanity  are  due  to  a  projection  of  mental  images 
which  have,  owing  to  certain  circumstances,  gained  a 
preternatural  persistence  and  vividness.  Sometimes  it 
is  the  images  that  have  been  dwelt  on  with  passionate 
lono-iim  before  the  disease,  sometimes  those  which  have 
grown  most  habitual  through  the  mode  of  daily  occupa- 

results  in  the  next  number  of  Mind.  The  liability  of  children  to  take 
linages  for  percepts,  is  illustrated  by  the  experiences  related  in  a 
curious  little  work.  Visions ,  by  E.  H.  Clarke,  M.D.  (Bostun,  U.S., 
1S7S),  pp.  17,  46,  and  212. 

1  A  common  way  of  describing  the  relation  of  the  hallucinatory  to 
real  objects,  is  io  say  that  the  former  appear  partly  to  cover  and  hide 
the  latter. 

.  2  Griesingor  remarks  that  the  forms  of  the  hallucinations  of  the 
insane  rarely  depend  on  sense-disturbances  alone.  Though  these  aie 
often  the  starting-point,  it  is  the  whole  mental  complexion  of  the 
time  which  gives  the  direction  to  the  imagination.  The  common 
experience  of  seeing  rats  and  mice  running  about  duiing  a  fit  of 
delirium  tremens  very  well  illustrates  the  co-operation  of  peripheral 
impressions  not  usually  attended  to,  and  possibly  magnified  by  the 
morbid  state  of  sensibility  of  the  time  (in  this  case  flying  spots,  musex 
volitantes),  with  emotional  conditions.  (See  Gricsinger,  loc.  cit.,  p.  96.) 


HALLUCINATION  IN  INSANITY. 


119 


tion,1  and  sometimes  those  connected  with  some 
incident  at  or  near  the  time  of  the  commencement  of 
the  disease. 

In  mental  disease,  auditory  hallucinations  play  a 
part  no  less  conspicuous  than  visual.2  Patients  fre¬ 
quently  complain  of  having  their  thoughts  spoken  to 
them,  and  it  is  not  uncommon  for  them  to  imagine 
that  they  are  addressed  by  a  number  of  voices  at  the 
same  time.3 

These  auditory  hallucinations  offer  a  good  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  studying  the  gradual  growth  of  centrally 
originating  hallucinations.  In  the  early  stages  of  the 
disease,  the  patient  partly  distinguishes  his  represen¬ 
tative  from  his  presentative  sounds.  Thus,  he  talks  of 
sermons  being  composed  to  him  in  his  head.  He  calls 
these  “internal  voices,”  or  “voices  of  the  soul.”  It 

1  Wundt  ( rinjsiologische  Psychologic,  p.  652)  tells  us  of  an  insane 
woodman  who  s  ■  w  logs  of  wood  on  all  bands  in  front  of  the  real  objects. 

8  It  is  stated  by  Baillarger  ( Memoires  da  V  Academic  Hoy  ale  de 
Medicine,  tom.  ,\ii.  p.  278,  etc.)  that  while  visual  hallucinations  are 
more  frequent  than  auditory  in  healthy  life,  the  reverse  relation  holds 
in  disease.  At  the  same  time,  Griesinger  remarks  (loc.  cit.,  p.  ‘JS) 
that  visual  hallucinations  are  rather  more  common  than  auditory  in 
di=ease  also.  This  is  what  we  should  expect  from  the  number  of 
subjective  sensations  connected  with  the  peripheral  organ  of  vision. 
The  greater  relative  froqueuey  of  auditory  hallucinations  in  disease, 
if  made  out,  would  seem  to  depend  on  the  close  connection  between 
articulate  sounds  and  the  higher  centres  of  intelligence,  which  centres 
are  naturally  the  first  to  be  thrown  out  of  working  order.  It  is 
possible,  moreover,  that  auditory  hallucinations  are  quite  as  common 
as  visual  in  states  of  comparative  health,  though  more  easily  over¬ 
looked.  Professor  Huxley  relates  that  he  is  liable  to  auditory  though 
not  to  visual  hallucinations.  (See  Elementary  Lessons  in  Physiology, 
p.  267.) 

3  See  Baillarger,  Memoires  de  VAcadcinie  Royale  de  M.  dicine,  tom. 
xiL  p.  273,  et  seq. 


120 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


is  only  when  the  disease  gains  ground  and  the  central 
irritability  increases  that  these  audible  thoughts  become 
distinctly  projected  as  external  sounds  into  more  or 
less  definite  regions  of  the  environment.  And  it  is 
exceedingly  curious  to  notice  the  different  directions 
whioh  patients  give  to  these  sounds,  referring  them 
now  to  a  quarter  above  the  head,  now  to  a  region  below 
the  floor,  and  so  on.1 

Range  of  Sense-Illusions. 

And  now  let  us  glance  back  to  see  the  path  we 
have  traversed.  We  set  out  with  an  account  of  per¬ 
fectly  normal  perception,  and  found,  even  here,  in  the 
projection  of  our  sensations  of  colour,  sound,  etc.,  into 
the  environment  or  to  the  extremities  of  the  organism, 
something  which,  from  the  point  of  view  of  physical 
science,  easily  wears  the  appearance  of  an  ingredient 
of  illusion. 

Waiving  this,  however,  and  taking  the  word  illusion 
as  commonly  understood,  we  find  that  it  begins  when 
the.  element  of  imagination  no  longer  answers  to  a 
present  reality  or  external  fact  in  any  sense  of  this  ex¬ 
pression.  In  its  lowest  stages  illusion  closely  counter¬ 
feits  correct  perception  in  the  balance  of  the  direct 
factor,  sensation,  and  the  indirect  factor,  mental  repro¬ 
duction  or  imagination.  The  degree  of  illusion  in¬ 
creases  in  proportion  as  the  imaginative  element  gains 

1  See  Baillarger,  Aniiahs  Nedico-Psycludcqiqnes,  trm.  vi.  p.  1C8 
et.  seq. ;  also  tom.  xii.  p.  273,  et  seq.  Compare  Griesinger,  op.  cit.  In  a 
curious  work  entitled  Du  Demon  de  Socrate  (Paris,  1S5G),  M.  Lelut 
seeks  to  prove  that  the  philosopher’s  admonitory  voice  was  an  inci¬ 
pient  auditory  hallucination  symptomic  of  a  nascent  stage  of  mental 
alienation. 


SUALE  OF  SENSE-ILLUSION. 


121 


in  force  relatively  to  the  present  impression  ;  till,  in 
the  wild  illusions  of  the  insane,  the  amount  of  actual 
impression  becomes  evanescent.  When  this  point  is 
reached,  the  act  of  imagination  shows  itself  as  a  purely 
creative  process,  or  an  hallucination. 

While  we  may  thus  trace  the  progress  of  illusion 
towards  hallucination  by  means  of  the  gradual  increase 
in  force  and  extent  of  the  imaginative,  or  indirect,  as 
opposed  to  the  sensuous,  or  direct,  element  in  percep¬ 
tion,  we  have  found  a  second  starting-point  for  this 
movement  in  the  mechanism  of  sensation,  involving,  as 
it  does,  the  occasional  production  of  “subjective  sen¬ 
sations.”  Such  sensations  constitute  a  border-land 
between  the  regions  of  illusion  in  the  narrow  sense, 
and  hallucination.  In  their  simplest  and  least  de¬ 
veloped  form  they  may  be  regarded,  at  least  in  the 
case  of  hearing  and  sight,  as  partly  hallucinatory  ;  and 
they  serve  as  a  natural  basis  for  the  construction  of 
complete  hallucinations,  or  hallucinatory  percepts. 

In  these  different  ways,  then,  the  slight,  scarcely 
noticeable  illusions  of  normal  life  lead  up  to  the  most 
startling  hallucinations  of  abnormal  life.  From  the 
two  poles  of  the  higher  centres  of  attention  and 
imagination  on  the  one  side,  and  the  lower  regions  of 
nervous  action  involved  in  sensation  on  the  other  side, 
issue  forces  which  may,  under  certain  circumstances, 
develop  into  full  hallucinatory  percepts.  Thus  closely 
is  healthy  attached  to  morbid  mental  life.  There 
seems  to  be  no  sudden  break  between  our  most  sober 
every-day  recognitions  of  familiar  objects  and  the 
wildest  hallucinations  of  the  demented.  As  we  pass 
from  the  former  to  the  latter,  we  find  that  there  is 


122 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


never  any  abrupt  transition,  never  any  addition  of  per¬ 
fectly  new  elements,  but  only  that  the  old  elements 
go  on  combining  in  ever  new  proportions. 

The  connection  between  the  illusory  side  of  our  life 
and  insanity  may  be  seen  in  another  way.  All  illusion 
has  as  its  negative  condition  an  interruption  of  the 
higher  intellectual  processes,  the  due  control  of  our 
mental  representations  by  reflection  and  reason.  In 
the  case  of  passive  illusions,  the  error  arises  from  our 
inability  to  subordinate  the  suggestion  made  by  some 
feature  of  the  present  impression  to  the  result  of  a 
fuller  inspection  of  the  object  before  us,  or  of  a  wider 
reflection  on  the  past.  In  other  words,  our  minds  are 
dominated  by  the  partial  and  the  particular,  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  total  or  the  general.  In  active 
illusions,  again,  the  powers  of  judgment  and  reflection, 
including  those  of  calm  perception  itself,  temporarily 
vacate  their  throne  in  favour  of  imagination.  And 
this  same  suspension  of  the  higher  intellectual 
functions,  the  stupefaction  of  judgment  and  reflection 
made  more  complete  and  permanent,  is  just  what 
characterizes  insanity. 

We  may,  perhaps,  express  this  point  of  connection 
between  the  illusions  of  normal  life  and  insanity  by 
help  of  a  physiological  hypothesis.  If  the  nervous 
system  has  been  slowly  built  up,  during  the  course  of 
human  history,  into  its  present  complex  form,  it  follows 
that  those  nervous  structures  and  connections  which 
have  to  do  with  the  higher  intellectual  processes,  or 
which  represent  the  larger  and  more  general  relations 
of  our  experience,  have  been  most  recently  evolved. 
Consequently,  they  would  be  the  least  deeply  organized, 


CONTINUITY  OF  SANE  AND  INSANE  LIFE.  123 

and  so  the  least  stable  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  most  liable 
to  be  thrown  liors  de  combat.  This  is  what  happens 
temporarily  in  the  case  of  the  sane,  when  the  mind  is 
held  fast  by  an  illusion.  And,  in  states  of  insanity,  we 
see  the  process  of  nervous  dissolution  beginning  with 
these  same  nervous  structures,  and  so  taking  the 
reverse  order  of  the  process  of  evolution.1  And  thus, 
we  may  say  that  throughout  the  mental  life  of  the 
most  sane  of  us,  these  higher  and  more  delicately 
balanced  structures  are  constantly  in  danger  of  being 
reduced  to  that  state  of  inefficiency,  which  in  its  full 
manifestation  is  mental  disease. 

Does  this  way  of  putting  the  subject  seem  alarm¬ 
ing  ?  Is  it  an  appalling  thought  that  our  normal 
mental  life  is  thus  intimately  related  to  insanity,  and 
graduates  away  into  it  by  such  fine  transitions?  A 
moment’s  reflection  will  show  that  the  case  is  not  so 
bad  as  it  seems.  It  is  well  to  remind  ourselves  that 
the  brain  is  a  delicately  adjusted  organ,  which  very 
easily  gets  disturbed,  and  that  the  best  of  us  are  liable 
to  become  the  victims  of  absurd  illusion  if  we  habitu¬ 
ally  allow  our  imaginations  to  be  overheated,  whether 
by  furious  passion  or  by  excessive  indulgence  in  the 
pleasures  of  day-dreaming,  or  in  the  intoxicating  mys¬ 
teries  of  spiritualist  seances.  But  if  we  take  care  to 
keep  our  heads  cool  and  avoid  unhealthy  degrees  of 
mental  excitement,  we  need  not  be  very  anxious  on  the 
ground  of  our  liability  to  this  kind  of  error.  As  I  have 
tried  to  show,  our  most  frequent  illusions  are  necessarily 
connected  with  something  exceptional,  either  in  the 

1  This  is  well  brought  out  by  Dr.  J.  Hughlings  Jackson,  in  tho 
papers  in  Brain,  already  referred  to. 


124 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


organism  or  in  tlie  environment.  That  is  to  say,  it 
is  of  the  nature  of  illusion  in  healthy  conditions  of 
body  and  mind  to  be  something  very  occasional  and 
relatively  unimportant.  Our  perceptions  may  he  re¬ 
garded  as  the  reaction  of  the  mind  on  the  impressions 
borne  in  from  the  external  world,  or  as  a  process  of 
adjustment  of  internal  mental  relations  to  external 
physical  relations.  If  this  process  is,  in  the  main,  a 
right  one,  we  need  not  greatly  trouble,  because  it  is 
not  invariably  so.  We  should  accept  the  occasional 
failure  of  the  intellectual  mechanism  as  an  inseparable 
accompaniment  of  its  general  efficiency. 

To  this  it  must  be  added  that  many  of  the  illusions 
described  above  can  hardly  be  called  cases  of  non¬ 
adaptation  at  all,  since  they  have  no  relation  to  the 
practical  needs  of  life,  and  consequently  are,  in  a 
general  way,  unattended  to.  In  other  cases,  again, 
namely,  where  the  precise  nature  of  a  present  sen¬ 
sation,  being  practically  an  unimportant  matter,  is 
usually  unattended  to,  as  in  the  instantaneous  recog¬ 
nition  of  objects  by  the  eye  under  changes  of  illumi¬ 
nation,  etc.,  the  illusion  is  rather  a  part  of  the  process 
of  adaptation,  since  it  is  much  more  important  to 
recognize  the  permanent  object  signified  by  the  sen¬ 
sation  than  the  precise  nature  of  the  present  sensational 
“sign”  itself. 

Finally,  it  should  never  be  forgotten  that  in  nor¬ 
mal  states  of  mind  there  is  always  the  possibility  of 
rectifying  an  illusion.  What  distinguishes  abnormal 
from  normal  mental  life  is  the  persistent  occupation  of 
the  mind  by  certain  ideas,  so  that  there  is  no  room  for 
the  salutary  corrective  effect  of  reflection  on  the  actual 


SANE  LIFE  MARKED  OFF  FROM  INSANE.  125 


impression  of  tlie  moment,  by  which  we  are  wont  to 
“  orientate,”  or  take  our  bearings  as  to  the  position  of 
things  about  us.  In  sleep,  and  in  certain  artificially 
produced  states,  much  the  same  thing  presents  itself. 
Images  become  realities  just  because  they  are  not 
instantly  recognized  as  such  by  a  reference  to  the 
actual  surroundings  of  the  moment.  But  in  normal 
waking  life  this  power  of  correction  remains  with  us. 
We  may  not  exercise  it,  it  is  true,  and  thus  the  illusion 
will  tend  to  become  more  or  less  persistent  and  recur¬ 
ring;  for  the  same  law  applies  to  true  and  to  false  per¬ 
ception  :  repetition  makes  the  process  easier.  But  if 
we  only  choose  to  exert  ourselves,  we  can  always  keep 
our  illusions  in  a  nascent  or  imperfectly  developed 
stage.  This  applies  not  only  to  those  half-illusions 
into  which  we  voluntarily  fall,  but  also  to  the  more 
irresistible  passive  illusions,  and  those  arising  from  an 
over-excited  imagination.  Even  persons  subject  to  hal¬ 
lucinations,  like  Nicolai  of  Berlin,  learn  to  recognize 
the  unreal  character  of  these  phantasms.  On  this  point 
the  following  bit  of  autobiography  from  the  pen  of 
Coleridge  throws  an  interesting  light.  “  A  lady  J>  (he 
writes)  “  once  asked  me  if  I  believed  in  ghosts  and  ap¬ 
paritions.  I  answered  with  truth  and  simplicity,  ‘No, 
madam,  I  have  seen  far  too  many  myself.’  ”  1  How¬ 
ever  irresistible  our  sense-illusions  may  be,  so  long  as 
we  are  under  the  sway  of  particular  impressions  or  men¬ 
tal  images,  we  can,  when  resolved  to  do  so,  undeceive 
ourselves  by  carefully  attending  to  the  actual  state  of 
things  about  us.  And  in  many  cases,  when  once  the 

1  Friend ,  vol.  i.,  p.  243.  The  story  is  referred  to  by  Sir  W. 
Scott  in  his  Demonology  and  Witchcraft. 


126 


ILLUSIONS  OF  PERCEPTION. 


correction  is  made,  tlie  illusion  seems  an  impossibility. 
By  no  effort  of  imagination  are  we  able  to  throw  our¬ 
selves  back  into  the  illusory  mental  condition.  So  long 
as  this  power  of  dispelling  the  illusion  remains  with 
us,  we  need  not  be  alarmed  at  the  number  and  variety 
of  the  momentary  misapprehensions  to  which  we  are 
liable. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


DREAMS. 

/The  phenomena  of  dreams  may  well  seem  at  first  sight 
rto  form  a  world  of  their  own,  having  no  discoverable 
links  of  connection  with  the  other  facts  of  human 
experience,  j  First  of  all,  there  is  the  mystery  of  sleep, 
which  quietly  shuts  all  the  avenues  of  sense  and  so 
isolates  the  mind  from  contact  with  the  world  outside. 
To  gaze  at  the  motionless  face  of  a  sleeper  temporarily 
rapt  from  the  life  of  sight,  sound,  and  movement — 
which,  being  common  to  all,  binds  us  together  in 
mutual  recognition  and  social  action — has  always  some¬ 
thing  awe-inspiring.  This  external  inaction,  this 
torpor  of  sense  and  muscle,  how  unlike  to  the  familiar 
waking  life,  with  its  quick  responsiveness  and  its  over¬ 
flowing  energy  !  And  then,  if  we  look  at  dreams  from 
the  inside,  we  seem  to  find  but  the  reverse  face  of 
the  mystery.  How  inexpressibly  strange  does  the  late 
night-dream  seem  to  a  person  on  waking !  He  feels  he 
has  been  seeing  and  hearing  things  no  less  real  than 
those  of  waking  life  ;  but  things  which  belong  to  an 
unfamiliar  world,  an  order  of  sights  and  a  sequence  of 
events  quite  unlike  those  of  waking  experience;  and 


.28 


DREAMS. 


he  asks  himself  in  his  perplexity  where  that  once- 
visited  region  really  lies,  or  by  what  magic  power  it 
was  suddenly  and  for  a  moment  created  for  his  vision. 
In  truth,  the  very  name  of  dream  suggests  something 
remote  and  mysterious,  and  when  we  want  to  characterize 
some  impression  or  scene  which  by  its  passing  strange¬ 
ness  filled  us  with  wonder,  we  naturally  call  it  dream¬ 
like. 

Theories  of  Breams. 

The  earliest  theories  respecting  dreams  illustrate 
very  clearly  this  perception  of  the  remoteness  of 
dream-life  from  waking  experience.  By  the  simple 
mind  of  primitive  man  this  dream-world  is  regarded 
as  similar  in  its  nature  or  structure  to  our  common 
world,  only  lying  remote  from  this.  The  savage  con¬ 
ceives  that  when  he  falls  asleep,  his  second  self  leaves 
his  familiar  body  and  journeys  forth  to  unfamiliar 
regions,  where  it  meets  the  departed  second  selves  of 
his  dead  ancestors,  and  so  on.  From  this  point  of 
view,  the  experience  Of  the  night,  though  equal  in 
reality  to  that  of  the  day,  is  passed  in  a  wholly  dis¬ 
connected  region.1 

A  second  and  more  thoughtful  view  of  dreams, 
marking  a  higher  grade  of  intellectual  culture,  is 
that  these  visions  of  the  night  are  symbolic  pictures 
unfolded  to  the  inner  eye  of  the  soul  by  some  super¬ 
natural  being.  The  dream-experience  is  now,  in  a 
sense,  less  real  than  it  was  before,  since  the  phantasms 
that  wear  the  guise  of  objective  realities  are  simply 

1  See  E.  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  ch.  xi. ;  cf.  Herbert  Spencer. 
Principles  of  Sociology,  cl),  x. 


HISTORY  OF  DREAM  THEORIES. 


129 


images  spread  out  to  the  spirit’s  gaze,  or  the  direct 
utterance  of  a  divine  message.  Still,  this  mysterious 
contact  of  the  mind  with  the  supernatural  is  regarded 
as  a  fact,  and  so  the  dream  assumes  the  appearance  of  a 
higher  order  of  experience.  Its  one  point  of  attach¬ 
ment  to  the  experience  of  waking  life  lies  in  its 
symbolic  function ;  for  the  common  form  which  this 
supernatural  view  assumes  is  that  the  dream  is  a  dim 
prevision  of  coming  events.  Artemidorus,  the  great 
authority  on  dream  interpretation  ( oneirocritics )  for 
the  ancient  world,  actually  defines  a  dream  as  “a 
motion  or  fiction  of  the  soul  in  a  diverse  form  signify¬ 
ing  either  good  or  evil  to  come  ;  ”  and  even  a  logician 
like  Porphyry  ascribes  dreams  to  the  influence  of  a 
good  demon,  who  thereby  warns  us  of  the  evils  which 
another  and  bad  demon  is  preparing  for  us.  The  same 
mode  of  viewing  dreams  is  quite  common  to-day,  and 
many  who  pride  themselves  on  a  certain  intellectual 
culture,  and  who  imagine  themselves  to  be  free  from 
the  weakness  of  superstition,  are  apt  to  talk  of  dreams 
as  of  something  mysterious,  if  not  distinctly  ominous. 
Nor  is  it  surprising  that  phenomena  which  at  first 
sight  look  so  wild  and  lawless,  should  still  pass  for 
miraculous  interruptions  of  the  natural  order  of  events.1 

Yet,  in  spite  of  this  obvious  and  impressive  element 
of  the  mysterious  in  dream-life,  the  scientific  impulse 
to  illuminate  the  less  known  by  the  better  known  has 
long  since  begun  to  play  On  this  obscure  subject. 
Even  in  the  ancient  world  a  writer  might  here  and 

1  For  a  fuller  account  of  the  different  modes  of  dream-interpre¬ 
tation,  see  my  article  “Dream,”  in  the  ninth  edition  of  the  Enajclo- 
panlia  Britannica. 

7 


130 


DREAMS. 


there  be  found,  like  Democritus  or  Aristotle,  who  was 
bold  enough  to  put  forward  a  natural  and  physical 
explanation  of  dreams.  But  it  has  beon  the  work  of 
modern  science  to  provide  something  like  an  approxi¬ 
mate  solution  of  tlie  problem.  The  careful  study  of 
mental  life  in  its  intimate  union  with  bodily  opera¬ 
tions,  and  the  comparison  of  dream-combinations  with 
other  products  of  the  imagination,  normal  as  well  as 
morbid,  have  gradually  helped  to  dissolve  a  good  part 
of  the  mystery  which  once  hung  like  an  opaque  mist 
about  the  subject.  In  this  way,  our  dream-operations 
have  been  found  to  have  a  much  closer  connection 
with  our  waking  experiences  than  could  be  supposed 
on  a  superficial  view.  The  materials  of  our  dreams 
are  seen,  when  closely  examined,  to  be  drawn  from 
our  waking  experience.  Our  waking  consciousness 
acts  in  numberless  ways  on  our  dreams,  and  these 
again  in  unsuspected  ways  influence  our  waking  mental 
life.1  Not  only  so,  it  is  found  that  the  quaint  chaotic 
play  of  images  in  dreams  illustrates  mental  processes 
and  laws  which  are  distinctly  observable  in  waking 
thought.  Thus,  for  example,  the  apparent  objective 
reality  of  these  visions  has  been  accounted  for,  without 
the  need  of  resorting  to  any  supernatural  agency,  in  the 
light  of  a  vast  assemblage  of  facts  gathered  from 
the  by-ways,  so  to  speak,  of  waking  mental  life.  I 
need  hardly  add  that  I  refer  to  the  illusions  of  sense 
dealt  with  in  the  foregoing  chapters. 

Dreams  are  to  a  large  extent  the  semblance  of 

1  For  a  fuller  account  of  the  reaction  of  dreams  on  waking  con¬ 
sciousness,  see  Paul  Radestock,  Schlaf  und  Trautn.  The  subject  is 
touched  on  later,  under  Ihe  Illusions  of  Memory. 


PHYSIOLOGY  OF  SLEEP. 


131 


external  perceptions.  Other  psychical  phenomena,  as 
self-reflection,  emotional  activity,  and  so  on,  appear 
in  dream-life,  hut  they  do  so  in  close  connection  with 
these  qnasi-perceptions.  The  name  “  vision,”  given 
by  old  writers  to  dreams,  sufficiently  points  out  this 
close  affinity  of  the  mental  phenomena  to  sense-per¬ 
ception  ;  and  so  far  as  science  is  concerned,  they 
must  be  regarded  as  a  peculiar  variety  of  sense- 
illusion.  Hence  the  appropriateness  of  studying  them 
in  close  connection  with  the  illusions  of  perception 
of  the  waking  state.  Though  marked  off  by  the 
presence  of  very  exceptional  physiological  conditions, 
they  are  largely  intelligible  by  help  of  these  physio¬ 
logical  and  psychological  principles  which  we  have 
just  been  considering. 

The  State  of  Sleep. 

The  physiological  explanation  of  dreams  must, 
it  is  plain,  set  out  with  an  account  of  the  condition  of 
the  organism  known  as  sleep.  While  there  is  here 
much  that  is  uncertain,  there  are  some  things  which 
are  fairly  well  known.  Recent  physiological  observa¬ 
tion  has  gone  to  prove  that  during  sleep  all  the 
activities  of  the  organism  are  appreciably  lowered. 
Thus,  for  example,  according  to  Testa,  the  pulse  falls 
by  about  one-fifth.  This  lowering  of  the  organic  func¬ 
tions  appears,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  to  increase 
towards  midnight,  after  which  there  is  a  gradual  rising. 

The  nervous  system  shares  in  this  general  depression 
of  the  vital  activities.  The  circulation  being  slower, 
the  process  of  reparation  and  nutrition  of  the  nerves  is 
retarded,  and  so  their  degree  of  excitability  diminished. 


132 


DREAMS 


This  is  clearly  seen  in  the  condition  of  the  peripheral 
regions  of  the  nervous  system,  including  the  sense- 
organs,  which  appear  to  be  but  very  slightly  acted  on 
by  their  customary  stimuli. 

The  nervous  centres  must  participate  in  this 
lethargy  of  the  system.  In  other  words,  the  activity  of 
the  central  substance  is  lowered,  and  the  result  of  this 
is  plainly  seen  in  what  is  usually  thought  of  as  the 
characteristic  feature  of  sleep,  namely,  a  transition 
from  vigorous  mental  activity  or  intense  and  clear 
consciousness,  to  comparative  inactivity  or  faint  and 
obscure  consciousness.  The  cause  of  this  condition  of 
the  centres  is  supposed  to  be  the  same  as  that  of  the 
torpidity  of  all  the  other  organs  in  sleep,  namely,  the 
retardation  of  the  circulation.  But,  though  there  is  no 
doubt  as  to  this,  the  question  of  the  proximate  physio¬ 
logical  conditions  of  sleep  is  still  far  from  being  settled. 
Whether  during  sleep  the  blood-vessels  of  the  brain  are 
fuller  or  less  full  than  during  waking,  is  still  a  moot 
point.  Also  the  qualitative  condition  of  the  blood  in 
the  cerebral  vessels  is  still  a  matter  of  discussion.1 

Since  the  effect  of  sleep  is  to  lower  central  activity, 
the  question  naturally  occurs  whether  the  nervous 
centres  are  ever  rendered  inactive  to  such  an  extent  as 
to  interrupt  the  continuity  of  our  conscious  life.  This 
question  has  been  discussed  from  the  point  of  view  of 
the  metaphysician,  of  the  psychologist,  and  of  the  phy¬ 
siologist,  and  in  no  case  is  perfect  unanimity  to  be 
found.  The  metaphysical  question,  whether  the  soul 
as  a  spiritual  substance  is  capable  of  being  wholly  in- 

1  For  an  account  of  the  latest  physiological  hypotheses  as  to  the 
proximate  cause  of  sleep,  see  Radestock,  op.  cit.,  appendix. 


IS  SLEEP  EVER  DREAMLESS? 


133 


active,  or  whether  it  is  not  in  what  seem  the  moments 
of  profoundest  unconsciousness  partially  awake — the 
question  so  warmly  discussed  by  the  Cartesians,  Leib¬ 
nitz,  etc. — need  not  detain  us  here. 

Of  more  interest  to  us  are  the  psychological  and 
the  physiological  discussions.  The  former  seeks  to 
settle  the  question  by  help  of  introspection  and  memory. 
On  the  one  side,  it  is  urged  against  the  theory  of  un¬ 
broken  mental  activity,  that  w'e  remember  so  little  of 
the  lowered  consciousness  of  sleep.1  To  this  it  is  replied 
that  our  forgetfulness  of  the  contents  of  dream-con¬ 
sciousness,  even  if  this  vrere  unbroken,  would  be  fully 
accounted  for  by  the  great  dissimilarity  between  dream¬ 
ing  and  waking  mental  life.  It  is  urged,  moreover, 
on  this  side  that  a  sudden  rousing  of  a  man  from  sleep 
always  discovers  him  in  the  act  of  dreaming,  and  that 
this  goes  to  prove  the  uniform  connection  of  dreaming 
and  sleeping.  This  argument,  again,  may  be  met  by 
the  assertion  that  our  sense  of  the  duration  of  our 
dreams  is  found  to  be  grossly  erroneous ;  that,  owing  to 
the  rapid  succession  of  the  images,  the  realization  of 
which  would  involve  a  long  duration,  we  enormously 
exaggerate  the  length,  of  dreams  in  retrospection.2 
From  this  it  is  argued  that  the  dream  which  is  recalled 
on  our  being  suddenly  aw'akened  may  have  had  its 
w'hole  course  during  the  transition  state  of  waking. 

Again,  the  fact  that  a  man  may  resolve,  on  going  to 
sleep,  to  wake  at  a  certain  hour,  has  often  been  cited  in 

1  Plutarch,  Locke,  and  others  give  instances  of  people  who  never 
dreamt.  Lessing  asserted  of  himself  that  he  never  knew  what  it  was 
to  dream. 

2  The  error  touched  on  here  will  be  fully  dealt  witli  under 
Illusions  of  Memory. 


134 


DREAMS. 


proof  of  the  persistence  of  a  degree  of  mental  activity 
even  in  perfectly  sound  sleep.  The  force  of  this  con¬ 
sideration,  however,  has  been  explained  away  by  saying 
that  the  anticipation  of  rising  at  an  unusual  hour 
necessarily  produces  a  slight  amount  of  mental  dis¬ 
quietude,  which  is  quite  sufficient  to  prevent  sound 
sleep,  and  therefore  to  expose  the  sleeper  to  the  rousing 
action  of  faint  external  stimuli. 

While  the  purely  psychological  method  is  thus 
wholly  inadequate  to  solve  the  question,  physiological 
reasoning  appears  also  to  be  not  perfectly  conclusive. 
Many  physiologists,  not  unnaturally  desirous  of  up¬ 
setting  what  they  regard  as  a  gratuitous  metaphysical 
hypothesis,  have  pronounced  in  favour  of  an  absolutely 
dreamless  or  unconscious  sleep.  From  the  physio¬ 
logical  point  of  view,  there  is  no  mystery  in  a  totally 
suspended  mental  activity.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
is  much  to  be  said  on  the  opposite  side,  and  perhaps 
it  may  be  contended  that  the  purely  physiological 
evidence  rather  points  to  the  conclusion  that  central 
activity,  however  diminished  during  sleep,  always 
retains  a  minimum  degree  of  intensity.  At  least,  one 
would  be  disposed  to  argue  in  this  way  from  the 
analogy  of  the  condition  of  the  other  functions  of  the 
organism  during  sleep.  Possibly  this  modicum  of 
positive  evidence  may  more  than  outweigh  any  slight 
presumption  against  the  doctrine  of  unbroken  mental 
activity  drawn  from  the  negative  circumstance  that  we 
remember  so  little  of  our  dream-life.1 

Such  being  the  state  of  physiological  knowledge 

1  For  a  very  full,  fair,  and  thoughtful  discussion  of  this  whole 
question,  see  Radestock,  op.  cit.,  ch.  iv. 


ST4.TE  OF  NERVE-STRUCTURES  IN  SLEEP.  135 


respecting  the  immediate  conditions  of  sleep,  we  can¬ 
not  look  for  any  certain  information  on  the  nature  of 
that  residual  mode  of  cerebral  activity  which  manifests 
itself  subjectively  in  dreams.  It  is  evident,  indeed, 
that  this  question  can  only  be  fully  answered  when  the 
condition  of  the  brain  as  a  whole  during  sleep  is  under¬ 
stood.  Meanwhile  we  must  be  content  with  vague 
hypotheses. 

It  may  be  said,  for  one  thing,  that  during  sleep  the 
nervous  substance  as  a  whole  is  less  irritable  than 
during  waking  hours.  That  is  to  say,  a  greater  amount 
of  stimulus  is  needed  to  produce  any  conscious  result.1 
This  appears  plainly  enough  in  the  case  of  the 
peripheral  sense-organs.  Although  these  are  not,  as  it 
is  often  supposed,  wholly  inactive  during  sleep,  they 
certainly  require  a  more  potent  external  stimulus  to 
rouse  them  to  action.  And  what  applies  to  the 
peripheral  regions  applies  to  the  centres.  In  truth, 
it  is  clearly  impossible  to  distinguish  between  the 
diminished  irritability  of  the  peripheral  and  that  of 
the  central  structures. 

At  first  sight  it  seems  contradictory  to  the  above 
to  say  that  stimuli  which  have  little  effect  on  the 
centres  of  consciousness  during  waking  life  produce  an 
appreciable  result  in  sleep.  Nevertheless,  it  will  be 
found  that  this  is  the  case.  Thus  organic  processes 
which  scarcely  make  themselves  known  to  the  mind  in 
a  waking  state,  may  be  shown  to  be  the  originators  of 
many  of  our  dreams.  This  fact  can  only  be  explained 
on  the  physical  side  by  saying  that  the  special  cerebral 

1  This  may  be  technically  expressed  by  saying  that  the  liminal 
intensity  (Schwcllo)  is  raised  during  sleep. 


136 


DEEAMS. 


activities  engaged  in  an  act  of  attention  are  greatly 
liberated  during  sleep  by  the  comparative  quiescence 
of  the  external  senses.  These  activities,  by  co-operat¬ 
ing  with  the  faint  results  of  the  stimuli  coming  from 
the  internal  organs,  serve  very  materially  to  increase 
their  effect. 

Finally,  it  is  to  be  observed  that,  while  the  centres 
thus  respond  with  diminished  energy  to  peripheral 
stimuli,  external  and  internal,  they  undergo  a  direct, 
or  “  automatic,”  mode  of  excitation,  being  roused  into 
activity  independently  of  an  incoming  nervous  im¬ 
pulse.  This  automatic  stimulation  has  been  plausibly 
referred  to  the  action  of  the  products  of  decomposition 
accumulating  in  the  cerebral  blood-vessels.1  It  is  pos¬ 
sible  that  there  is  something  in  the  nature  of  this 
stimulation  to  account  for  the  force  and  vividness  of  its 
conscious  results,  that  is  to  say,  of  dreams. 

The  Dream  State. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  psychic  side  of  these  con¬ 
ditions,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  general  character  of  the 
mental  states  known  as  dreams.  It  is  plain  that  the 
closing  of  the  avenues  of  the  external  senses,  which  is 
the  accompaniment  of  sleep,  will  make  an  immense 
difference  in  the  mental  events  of  the  time.  Instead 
of  drawing  its  knowledge  from  without,  noting  its 
bearings  in  relation  to  the  environment,  the  mind  will 
now  be  given  over  to  the  play  of  internal  imagination. 
The  activity  of  fancy  will,  it  is  plain,  be  unrestricted  by 
collision  with  external  fact.  The  internal  mental  life 
will  expand  in  free  picturesque  movement. 

1  See  Wundt,  Physiclorjische  Fsijchologie,  pp.  1S8-19L 


NATURE  OF  DREAM- ACTIVITY. 


137 


To  say  that  in  sleep  the  mind  is  given  over  to  ita 
own  imaginings,  is  to  say  that  the  mental  life  in  these 
circumstances  will  reflect  the  individual  temperament 
and  mental  history.  For  the  play  of  imagination  at 
any  time  follows  the  lines  of  our  past  experience  more 
closely  than  would  at  first  appear,  and  being  coloured 
with  emotion,  will  reflect  the  predominant  emotional 
impulses  of  the  individual  mind.  Hence  the  saying 
of  Heraclitus,  that,  while  in  waking  we  all  have  a  com¬ 
mon  world,  in  sleep  we  have  each  a  world  of  our  own. 

This  play  of  imagination  in  sleep  is  furthered  by 
the  peculiar  attitude  of  attention.  When  asleep  the 
voluntary  guidance  of  attention  ceases  ;  its  direction  is 
to  a  large  extent  determined  by  the  contents  of  the 
mind  at  the  moment.  Instead  of  holding  the  images 
and  ideas,  and  combining  them  according  to  some 
rational  end,  the  attention  relaxes  its  energies  and 
succumbs  to  the  force  of  imagination.  And  thus,  in 
sleep,  just  as  in  the  condition  of  reverie  or  day-dream¬ 
ing,  there  is  an  abandonment  of  the  fancy  to  its  own 
wild  ways. 

It  follows  that  the  dream-state  will  not  appear  to 
the  mind  as  one  of  fancy,  but  as  one  of  actual  percep¬ 
tion,  and  of  contact  with  present  reality.  Dreams  are 
clearly  illusory,  and,  unlike  the  illusions  of  waking  life, 
are  complete  and  persistent.1  And  the  reason  of  this 
ought  now  to  be  clear.  First  of  all,  the  mind  during 
sleep  wants  what  M.  Taine  calls  the  corrective  of  a  pre- 


1  There  is,  indeed,  sometimes  an  undertone  of  critical  reflection, 
which  is  sufficient  to  produce  a  feeling  of  uncertainty  and  bewilder¬ 
ment,  and  in  very  rare  cases  to  amount  to  a  vague  consciousness  that 
the  mental  experience  is  a  dream. 


133 


DREAMS. 


sent  sensation.  When  awake  under  ordinary  circum¬ 
stances,  any  momentary  illusion  is  at  once  set  right  by 
a  new  act  of  orientation.  The  superior  vividness  of  the 
external  impression  cannot  leave  us  in  any  doubt, 
when  calm  and  self-possessed,  whether  our  mental 
images  answer  to  present  realities  or  not.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  asleep,  this  reference  to  a  fixed 
objective  standard  is  clearly  impossible.  Secondly,  we 
may  fairly  argue  that  the  mental  images  of  sleep 
approximate  in  character  to  external  impressions.  This 
they  do  to  some  extent  in  point  of  intensity,  for,  in 
spite  of  the  diminished  excitability  of  the  centres,  the 
mode  of  stimulation  which  occurs  in  sleep  may,  as  I 
have  hinted,  involve  an  energetic  cerebral  action. 
And,  however  this  be,  it  is  plain  that  the  image 
will  gain  a  preternatural  force  through  the  greatly 
narrowed  range  of  attention.  When  the  mind  of  the 
sleeper  is  wholly  possessed  by  an  image  or  group  of 
images,  and  the  attention  kept  tied  down  to  these, 
there  is  a  maximum  reinforcement  of  the  images. 
But  this  is  not  all.  When  the  attention  is  thus  held 
captive  by  the  image,  it  approximates  in  character  to 
an  external  impression  in  another  way.  In  our  waking 
state,  when  our  powers  of  volition  are  intact,  the 
external  impression  is  characterized  by  its  fixity  or  its 
obdurate  resistance  to  our  wishes.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  mental  image  is  fluent,  accommodating,  and  dis¬ 
appears  and  reappears  according  to  the  direction  of  our 
volitions.  In  sleep,  through  the  suspension  of  the 
higher  voluntary  power  of  attention,  the  mental  image 
seems  to  lord  it  over  our  minds  just  as  the  actual 
impression  of  waking  life. 


DREAM  AS  SENSE-ILLUSION. 


139 


This  much  may  suffice,  perhaps,  by  way  of  a 
general  description  of  the  sleeping  and  dreaming  state. 
Other  points  will  make  themselves  known  after  we 
have  studied  the  contents  and  structure  of  dreams  in 
detail. 

Dreams  are  commonly  classified  ( e.g .  by  Wundt)  with 
hallucinations,  and  this  rightly,  since,  as  their  common 
appellation  of  “  vision  ”  suggests,  they  are  for  the  most 
part  the  semblance  of  percepts  in  the  absence  of  ex¬ 
ternal  impressions.  At  the  same  time,  recent  research 
goes  to  show  that  in  many  dreams  something  answer¬ 
ing  to  the  “  external  impression  ”  in  waking  perception 
is  the  starting-point.  Consequently,  in  order  to  be 
as  accurate  as  possible,  I  shall  divide  dreams  into 
illusions  (in  the  narrow  sense)  and  hallucinations. 

D  ream-illusions. 

By  dream-illusions  I  mean  those  dreams  which  set 
out  from  some  peripheral  nervous  stimulation,  internal 
or  external.  That  the  organic  processes  of  digestion, 
respiration,  etc.,  act  as  stimuli  to  the  centres  in  sleep 
is  well  known.  Thus,  David  Hartley  assigns  as  the 
second  great  source  of  dreams  “  states  of  the  body.”  1 
But  it  is  not  so  well  known  to  what  an  extent  our 
dreams  may  be  influenced  by  stimuli  acting  on  the 
exterior  sense-organs.  Let  us  first  glance  at  the 
action  of  such  external  stimuli. 

Action  of  External  Stimuli. 

During  sleep  the  eyes  are  closed,  and  consequently 
the  action  of  external  light  on  the  retina  impeded. 

1  Observations  on  Man,  Part  I.  ch.  iii.  sec.  5. 


140 


DREAMS. 


let  it  is  found  that  even  under  these  circumstances 
any  very  bright  light  suddenly  introduced  is  capable 
of  stimulating  the  optic  fibres,  and  of  affecting  conscious- 
ness.  The  most  common  form  of  this  is  the  effect  of 
bright  moonlight,  and  of  the  early  sun’s  rays.  Krauss 
tells  a  funny  story  of  his  having  once,  when  twenty-six 
years  old,  caught  himself,  on  waking,  in  the  act  of 
stretching  out  his  arms  towards  what  his  dream-fancy 
had  pictured  as  the  image  of  his  mistress.  When 
fully  awake,  this  image  resolved  itself  into  the  full 
moon.1  It  is  not  improbable,  as  Eadestock  remarks, 
that  the  rays  of  the  sun  or  moon  are  answerable  for 
many  of  the  dreams  of  celestial  glory  which  persons  of 
a  highly  religious  temperament  are  said  to  experience. 

External  sounds,  when  not  sufficient  to  rouse  the 
sleeper,  easily  incorporate  themselves  into  his  dreams. 
The  ticking  of  a  watch,  the  stroke  of  a  clock,  the  hum 
of  an  insect,  the  song  of  a  bird,  the  patter  of  rain,  are 
common  stimuli  to  the  dream-phantasy.  M.  Alf. 
Maury  tells  us,  in  his  interesting  account  of  the  series 
of  experiments  to  which  he  submitted  himself  in  order 
to  ascertain  the  result  of  external  stimulation  on  the 
mind  during  sleep,  that  when  a  pair  of  tweezers  was 
made  to  vibrate  near  his  ear,  he  dreamt  of  bells,  the 
tocsin,  and  the  events  of  June,  1848.2  Most  of  us, 
probably,  have  gone  through  the  experience  of  im¬ 
politely  falling  asleep  when  some  one  was  reading  to 
us,  and  of  having  dream-images  suggested  by  the 
sounds  that  were  still  indistinctly  heard.  Schemer 
gives  an  amusing  case  of  a  youth  who  was  permitted  to 

1  Quoted  by  Eadestock,  op.  cit.,  p.  110. 

!  Le  Sommeil  et  les  Eeves,  p  132,  et  seq. 


ACTION  OF  EXTERNAL  STIMULI. 


141 


whisper  his  name  into  the  ear  of  his  obdurate  mistress, 
the  consequence  of  which  was  that  the  lady  contracted 
a  habit  of  dreaming  about  him,  which  led  to  a  felicitous 
change  of  feeling  on  her  part.1 

The  two  lower  senses,  smell  and  taste,  seem  to 
play  a  less  important  part  in  the  production  of  dream- 
illusions.  Radestock  says  that  the  odour  of  flowers 
in  a  room  easily  leads  to  visual  images  of  hot-houses, 
perfumery  shops,  and  so  on  ;  and  it  is  probable  that 
the  contents  of  the  mouth  may  occasionally  act  as  a 
stimulus  to  the  organ  of  taste,  and  so  give  rise  to 
corresponding  dreams.  As  Radestock  observes,  these 
lower  sensations  do  not  commonly  make  known  their 
quality  to  the  sleeper’s  mind.  They  become  trans¬ 
formed  at  once  into  visual,  instead  of  into  olfactory  or 
gustatory  percepts.  That  is  to  say,  the  dreamer  does 
not  imagine  himself  smelling  or  tasting,  but  seeing  an 
object. 

The  contact  of  objects  with  the  tactual  organ  is 
one  of  the  best  recognized  causes  of  dreams.  M.  Maury 
found  that  when  his  lips  were  tickled,  his  dream-fancy 
interpreted  the  impression  as  of  a  pitch  plaster  being 
torn  off  his  face.  An  unusual  pressure  on  any  part 
of  the  body,  as,  for  example,  from  contact  with  a 
fellow-sleeper,  is  known  to  give  rise  to  a  well-marked 
variety  of  dream.  Our  own  limbs  may  even  appear 
as  foreign  bodies  to  our  dream-imagination,  when 
through  pressure  they  become  partly  paralyzed.  Thus, 
on  one  occasion,  I  awoke  from  a  miserable  dream,  in 
which  I  felt  sure  I  was  grasping  somebody’s  hand  in 

1  Das  Leben  des  Traumes,  p.  369.  Other  instances  are  related  H 
Beattie  and  Abercrombie. 


142 


DREAMS. 


bed,  and  I  was  racked  by  terrifying  conjectures  as  to  w  ho 
it  might  be.  When  fully  awake,  I  discovered  that  I 
had  been  lying  on  my  right  side,  and  clasping  the  wrist 
of  the  right  arm  (which  had  been  rendered  insensible 
by  the  pressure  of  the  body)  with  the  left  hand. 

In  close  connection  with  these  stimuli  of  pressure  ( 
are  those  of  muscular  movement,  whether  unimpeded 
or  impeded.  We  need  not  enter  into  the  difficult 
question  how  far  the  “  muscular  sense  ”  is  connected 
with  the  activity  of  the  motor  nerves,  and  how  far  with 
sensory  fibres  attached  to  the  muscular  or  the  adjacent 
tissues.  Suffice  it  to  say  tha^m  actual  movement,  a 
resistance  to  an  attempted  movement,  or  a  mere  dis- 
disposition  to  movement,  whether  consequent  on  a 
surplus  of  motor  energ}'  or  on  a  sensation  of  discomfort 
or  fatigue  in  the  part  to  be  moved,  somehow  or  other 
makes  itself  known  to  our  minds,  even  when  we  are 
deprived  of  the  assistance  of  vision.  And  these  feel¬ 
ings  of  movement,  impeded  or  unimpeded,  are  common 
initial  impulses  in  our  dream-experiences.  It  is  quite 
a  mistake  to  suppose  that  dreams  are  built  up  out  of 
the  purely  passive  sensations  of  sight  and  hearing.  A 
close  observation  will  show  that  in  nearly  every  dream 
we  imagine  ourselves  either  moving  among  the  objects 
we  perceive  or  striving  to  move  when  some  weighty 
obstacle  obstructs  us./  All  of  us  are  familiar  with  the 
common  forms  of  nightmare,  in  which  we  strive  hope¬ 
lessly  to  flee  from  some  menacing  evil,  and  this  dream- 
experience,  it  may  be  presumed,  frequently  comes  from 
a  feeling  of  strain  in  the  muscles,  due  to  an  awkward 
disposition  of  the  limbs  during  sleep.  The  common 
dream-illusion  of  falling  down  a  vast  abyss  is  plausibly 


SUBJECTIVE  STIMULATION  OF  NERVES.  143 

referred  by  Wundt  to  an  involuntary  extension  of  the 
foot  of  the  sleeper. 

Action  of  Internal  Stimuli. 

Let  us  now  pass  from  the  action  of  stimuli  lying 
outside  the  organism,  to  that  of  stimuli  lying  within 
the  peripheral  regions  of  the  sense-organs.  I  have 
already  spoken  of  the  influence  of  subjective  sen¬ 
sations  of  sight,  hearing,  etc.,  on  the  illusions  of 
waking  life,  and  it  is  now  to  be  added  that  these  sen¬ 
sations  play  an  important  part  in  our  dream-life. 
Johannes  Muller  lays  great  prominence  on  the  part 
taken  by  ocular  spectra  in  the  production  of  dreams. 
As  he  observes,  the  apparent  rays  of  light,  light- 
patches,  mists  of  light,  and  so  on,  due  to  changes  of 
blood-pressure  in  the  retina,  only  manifest  themselves 
clearly  when  the  eyes  are  closed  and  the  more  powerful 
effect  of  the  external  stimulus  cut  off.  These  sub¬ 
jective  spectra  come  into  prominence  in  the  sleepy 
condition,  giving  rise  to  what  M.  Maury  calls  “  hal¬ 
lucinations  hypnagogiques,”  and  which  he  regards 
(after  Gruithuisen)  as  the  chaos  out  of  which  the  dream- 
cosmos  is  evolved.1  They  are  pretty  certainly  the 
starting-point  in  those  picturesque  dreams  in  which 
figure  a  number  of  bright  objects,  such  as  beautiful 
birds,  butterflies,  flowers,  or  angels. 

That  the  visual  images  of  our  sleep  do  often  involve 
the  peripheral  regions  of  the  organ  of  sight,  seems  to 
be  proved  by  the  singular  fact  that  they  sometimes 
persist  after  waking.  Spinoza  and  Jean  Paul  Richter 


1  Le  Sommeil  et  les  Beves,  p.  42,  et  seq. 


144 


DREAMS. 


both  experienced  this  survival  of  dream-images.  Still 
more  pertinent  is  the  fact  that  the  effects  of  retinal 
fatigue  are  producible  by  dream-images.  The  physio¬ 
logist  Gruithuisen  had  a  dream,  in  which  the  principal 
feature  was  a  violet  flame,  and  which  left  behind  it, 
after  waking,  for  an  appreciable  duration,  a  comple¬ 
mentary  image  of  a  yellow  spot.1 

Subjective  auditory  sensations  appear  to  be  much 
less  frequent  causes  of  dream-illusions  than  correspond¬ 
ing  visual  sensations.  Yet  the  rushing,  roaring  sound 
caused  by  the  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  ear  is, 
probably,  a  not  uncommon  starting-point  in  dreams. 
With  respect  to  subjective  sensations  of  smell  and 
taste,  there  is  little  to  be  said.  On  the  other  hand, 
subjective  sensations  due  to  varying  conditions  in  the 
skin  are  a  very  frequent  exciting  cause  of  dreams. 
Variations  in  the  state  of  tension  of  the  skin,  brought 
about  by  alteration  of  position,  changes  in  the  charac¬ 
ter  of  the  circulation,  the  irradiation  of  heat  to  the 
skin  or  the  loss  of  the  same,  chemical  changes, — 
these  are  known  to  give  rise  to  a  number  of  familiar 
sensations,  including  those  of  tickling,  itching,  burning, 
creeping,  and  so  on  ;  and  the  effects  of  these  sensations 
are  distinctly  traceable  in  our  dreams.  For  example, 
the  exposure  of  a  part  of  the  body  through  a  loss  of 
the  bed-clothes  is  a  frequent  excitant  of  distressing 
dreams.  A  cold  foot  suggests  that  the  sleeper  is  walk¬ 
ing  over  snow  or  ice.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  cold 
foot  happens  to  touch  a  v.a  m  part  of  the  body,  the 

1  Beitruge  sur  Physiognosie  und  Heautognosie,  p.  256.  For  other 
cases  see  H.  Meyer,  Phy&iologie  der  Nervenfaser,p.  3u9;  and  Striimpell, 
Die  Natur  und  Entstehung  der  Traume,  p.  125. 


INFLUENCE  OF  ORGANIC  SENSATIONS.  145 


rlream-fancy  constructs  images  of  walking  on  burning 
lava,  and  so  on. 

These  sensations  of  the  skin  naturally  conduct  us 
to  the  organic  sensations  as  a  whole  ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
feelings  connected  with  the  varying  condition  of  the 
bodily  organs.  These  include  the  feelings  which  arise 
in  connection  with  the  processes  of  digestion,  respiration, 
and  circulation,  and  the  condition  of  various  organs 
according  to  their  state  of  nutrition,  etc.  During  oui 
waking  life  these  organic  feelings  coalesce  for  the  most 
part,  forming  as  the  “  vital  sense  ”  an  obscure  back¬ 
ground  for  our  clear  discriminative  consciousness,  and 
only  come  forward  into  this  region  when  very  excep¬ 
tional  in  character,  as  when  respiration  or  digestion  is 
impeded,  or  when  we  make  a  special  effort  of  attention 
to  single  them  out.1  When  wre  are  asleep,  however,  and 
the  avenues  of  external  perception  are  closed,  they 
assume  greater  prominence  and  distinctness.  The 
centres,  no  longer  called  upon  to  react  on  stimuli  coming 
from  without  the  organism,  are  free  to  react  on  stimuli 
coming  from  its  hidden  recesses.  So  important  a  part, 
indeed,  do  these  organic  feelings  take  in  the  dream- 
drama,  that  some  writers  are  disposed  to  regard  them 
as  the  great,  if  not  the  exclusive,  cause  of  dreams. 
Thus,  Schopenhauer  held  that  the  excitants  of  dreams 
are  impressions  received  from  the  internal  regions  of 
the  organism  through  the  sympathetic  nervous  system.2 

1  A  very  clear  and  full  account  of  these  organic  sensations,  or 
common  sensations,  lias  recently  appeared  from  the  pen  of  A.  Horwicz 
in  the  Vierteljalirsxchrift  fur  wissenschaflliche  Fhilosophie,  iv.  Juhrgang 
3tes  Heft. 

2  Schopenhauer  uses  this  hypothesis  in  order  to  account  for  the 
apparent  reality  of  dream-illusions.  He  thinks  these  internal  sensa- 


146 


DREAMS. 


It  is  hardly  necessary,  perhaps,  to  give  many  illus¬ 
trations  of  the  effect  of  such  organic  sensations  on  our 
dreams.  Among  the  most  common  provocatives  of 
dreams  are  sensations  connected  with  a  difficulty  in 
breathing,  due  to  the  closeness  of  the  air  or  to  the 
pressure  of  the  bed-clothes  on  the  mouth.  J.  Borner 
investigated  the  influence  of  these  circumstances  by 
covering  with  the  bed-clothes  the  mouth  and  a  part  of 
the  nostrils  of  persons  who  were  sound  asleep.  This 
was  followed  by  a  protraction  of  the  act  of  breathing,  a 
reddening  of  the  face,  efforts  to  throw  off  the  clothes,  etc. 
On  being  roused,  the  sleeper  testified  that  he  had  ex¬ 
perienced  a  nightmare,  in  which  a  horrid  animal  seemed 
to  be  weighing  him  down.1  Irregularity  of  the  heart’s 
action  is  also  a  frequent  cause  of  dreams.  It  is  not 
improbable  that  the  familiar  dream-experience  of  flying 
arises  from  disturbances  of  the  respiratory  and  circulatory 
movements. 

Again,  the  effects  of  indigestion,  and  more  particu¬ 
larly  stomachic  derangement,  on  dreams  are  too  well 
known  to  require  illustration.  It  may  be  enough  to 
allude  to  the  famous  dream  which  Hood  traces  to  an 
excessive  indulgence  at  supper.  It  is  known  that  the 
varying  condition  of  the  organs  of  secretion  influences 
our  dream-fancy  in  a  number  of  ways. 

Finally,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  an  injury  done  to 
any  part  of  the  organism  is  apt  to  give  rise  to  appro- 

tions  may  be  transformed  by  the  “  intuitive  function  ”  of  the  brain  (by 
means  of  the  “forms”  of  space,  time,  etc.)  into  quasi-realities,  just  as 
well  as  the  subjective  sensations  of  light,  sound,  etc.,  which  arise  in 
the  organs  of  sense  in  the  absence  of  external  stimuli.  (See  Versucl i 
iiber  das  Geistersehen  :  Werlce,  vol.  v.  p.  244,  et  seq.) 

1  Das  Alpdriiclcen,  pp.  8,  9,  27. 


EXAGGERATION  OF  SENSATION 


147 


priate  dream-images.  In  this  way,  very  slight  disturb¬ 
ances  which  would  hardly  affect  waking  consciousness 
may  make  themselves  felt  during  sleep.  Thus,  for 
example,  an  incipient  toothache  has  been  known  to 
suggest  that  the  teeth  are  being  extracted.1 

It  is  worth  observing  that  the  interpretation  of 
these  various  orders  of  sensations  by  the  imagination 
of  the  dreamer  takes  very  different  forms  according 
to  the  person’s  character,  previous  experience,  ruling 
emotions,  and  so  on.  This  is  what  is  meant  by  saying 
that  during  sleep  every  man  has  a  world  of  his  own, 
whereas,  when  awake,  he  shares  in  the  common  world  of 
perception. 

Dream-Exaggeration. 

It  is  to  be  noticed,  further,  that  this  interpretation 
of  sensation  during  sleep  is  uniformly  a  process  of  exag¬ 
geration.2  The  exciting  causes  of  the  feeling  of  dis¬ 
comfort,  for  example,  are  always  absurdly  magnified. 
The  reason  of  this  seems  to  be  that,  owing  to  the  con¬ 
dition  of  the  mind  during  sleep,  the  nature  of  the 
sensation  is  not  clearly  recognizable.  Even  in  the 
case  of  familiar  external  impressions,  such  as  the  sound 
of  the  striking  of  a  clock,  there  appears  to  be  wanting 
that  simple  process  of  reaction  by  which,  in  a  waking 
condition  of  the  attention,  a  sense-impression  is  instantly 
discriminated  and  classed.  In  sleep,  as  in  the  artifi- 

1  It  is  this  fact  which  justifies  writers  in  assigning  a  prognostic 
character  to  dreams. 

2  A  part  of  the  apparent  exaggeration  in  our  dream-experiences 
maybe  retrospective,  and  due  to  the  effect  of  the  impression  of  wonder 
which  they  leave  behind  them.  (See  Striimpell,  Die  Natur  und 
Entstehung  der  Truume.) 


118 


DREAMS. 


daily  induced  hypnotic  condition,  the  slighter  differ¬ 
ences  of  quality  among  sensations  are  not  clearly 
recognized.  The  activity  of  the  higher  centres,  which 
are  concerned  in  the  finer  processes  of  discrimination 
and  classification,  being  greatly  reduced,  the  impres¬ 
sion  may  be  said  to  come  before  consciousness  as 
something  novel  and  unfamiliar.  And  just  as  we  saw 
that  in  waking  life  novel  sensations  agitate  the  mind, 
and  so  lead  to  an  exaggerated  mode  of  interpretation ; 
so  here  we  see  that  what  is  unfamiliar  disturbs  the 
mind,  rendering  it  incapable  of  calm  attention  and 
just  interpretation. 

This  failure  to  recognize  the  real  nature  of  an 
impression  is  seen  most  conspicuously  in  the  case  of 
the  organic  sensations.  As  I  have  remarked,  these  con¬ 
stitute  for  the  most  part,  in  waking  life,  an  undiscrimi¬ 
nated  mass  of  obscure  feeling,  of  wdiick  we  are  only 
conscious  as  the  mental  tone  of  the  hour.  And  in  the 
few  instances  in  which  we  do  attend  to  them  separately, 
whether  through  their  exceptional  intensity  or  in  con¬ 
sequence  of  an  extraordinary  effort  of  discriminative 
attention,  we  can  only  be  said  to  perceive  them,  that  is, 
recognize  their  local  origin,  very  vaguely.  Hence,  when 
asleep,  these  sensations  get  very  oddly  misinterpreted. 

The  localization  of  a  bodily  sensation  in  waking  life 
means  the  combination  of  a  tactual  and  a  visual  image 
with  the  sensation.  Thus,  my  recognition  of  a  twinge 
of  toothache  as  coming  from  a  certain  tooth,  involves 
representations  of  the  active  and  passive  sensations 
which  touching  and  looking  at  the  tooth  would  yield 
me.  That  is  to  say,  the  feeling  instantly  calls  up 
a  compound  mental  image  exactly  answering  to  a 


DREAM-SYMBOLISM. 


149 


visual  percept.  This  holds  good  in  dream-interpre¬ 
tation  too;  the  interpretation  is  effected  by  means  of 
a  visual  image.  But  since  the  feeling  is  only  very 
vaguely  recognized,  this  visual  image  does  not  answer 
to  the  bodily  part  concerned.  Iustead  of  this,  the 
fancy  of  the  dreamer  constructs  some  visual  image 
which  bears  a  vague  resemblance  to  the  proper  one,  and 
is  generally,  if  not  always,  an  exaggeration  of  this  in 
point  of  extensive  magnitude,  etc.  For  example,  a 
sensation  arising  from  pressure  on  the  bladder,  being 
dimly  connected  with  the  presence  of  a  fluid,  calls  up 
an  image  of  a  flood,  and  so  on. 

This  mode  of  dream-interpretation  has  by  some 
writers  been  erected  into  the  typical  mode,  under  the 
name  of  dream-symbolism.  Thus  Schemer,  in  bis 
interesting  though  somewhat  fanciful  work,  Das  Leben 
des  Traumes,  contends  that  the  various  regions  of  the 
body  regularly  disclose  themselves  to  the  dream-fancy 
under  the  symbol  of  a  building  or  group  of  buildings ; 
a  pain  in  the  head  calling  up,  for  example,  the  image 
of  spiders  on  the  ceiling,  intestinal  sensations  exciting 
an  image  of  a  narrow  alley,  and  so  on.  Such  theories  are 
clearly  an  exaggeration  of  the  fact  that  the  localization 
of  our  bodily  sensations  during  sleep  is  necessarily 
imperfect.1 

In  many  cases  the  image  called  up  bears  on  its 
objective  side  no  discoverable  resemblance  to  that  of 
the  bodily  region  or  the  exciting  cause  of  the  sensation. 
Here  the  explanation  must  be  looked  for  in  the  sub¬ 
jective  side  of  the  sensation  and  mental  image,  that  is 
to  say,  in  their  emotional  quality,  as  pleasurable  or 
1  CJ.  Radestock,  op.  cit.,  pp.  131,  132. 


150 


DKEAMS. 


painful,  distressing,  quieting,  etc.  It  is  to  be  observed, 
indeed,  that  in  natural  sleep,  as  in  the  condition  known 
as  hypnotism,  while  differences  of  specific  quality  in 
the  sense-impressions  are  lost,  the  broad  difference  of 
the  pleasurable  and  the  painful  is  never  lost.  It  is,  in 
fact,  the  subjective  emotional  side  of  the  sensation  that 
uniformly  forces  itself  into  consciousness.  This  being 
so,  it  follows  that,  speaking  generally,  the  sensations  of 
sleep,  both  external  and  internal,  or  organic,  will  be 
interpreted  by  what  G.  H.  Lewes  has  called  “an 
analogy  of  feeling;”  that  is  to  say,  by  means  of  a 
mental  image  having  some  kindred  emotional  character 
or  colouring. 

Now,  the  analogy  between  the  higher  emotional 
and  the  bodily  states  is  a  very  close  one.  A  sensation 
of  obstruction  in  breathing  has  its  exact  analogue  in 
a  state  of  mental  embarrassment,  a  sensation  of  itching 
its  counterpart  in  mental  impatience,  and  so  on.  And 
since  these  emotional  experiences  are  deeper  and 
fuller  than  the  sensations,  the  tendency  to  exaggerate 
the  nature  and  causes  of  these  last  would  naturally 
lead  to  an  interpretation  of  them  by  help  of  these 
experiences.  In  addition  to  this,  the  predominance  of 
visual  imagery  in  sleep  would  aid  this  transformation 
of  a  bodily  sensation  into  an  emotional  experience, 
since  visual  perceptions  have,  as  their  accompaniments 
of  pleasure  and  pain,  not  sensations,  but  emotions.1 

1  I  was  on  one  occasion  able  to  observe  this  process  going  on  in 
the  transition  from  waking  to  sleeping.  I  partly  fell  asleep  when 
suffering  from  toothache.  Instantly  the  successive  throbs  of  pain 
transformel  themselves  into  a  sequence  of  visible  movements,  which 
I  can  only  vaguely  describe  as  the  forward  strides  of  some  menacing 
adversary. 


CENTRAL  DREAM-EXCITANTS. 


151 


Since  in  this  vague  interpretation  of  bodily 
sensation  the  actual  impression  is  obscured,  and  not 
taken  up  as  an  integral  part  into  the  percept,  it  is 
evident  that  we  cannot,  strictly  speaking,  call  the 
process  an  imitation  of  an  act  of  perception,  that  is  to 
say,  an  illusion.  And  since,  moreover,  the  visual 
image  by  which  the  sensation  is  thus  displaced 
appears  as  a  present  object,  it  would,  of  course,  be 
allowable  to  speak  of  this  as  an  hallucination.  This 
substitution  of  a  more  or  less  analogous  visual  image 
for  that  appropriate  to  the  sensation  forms,  indeed,  a 
transition  from  dream-illusion,  properly  so  called,  to 
dream-hallucination. 

Dream  Hallucinations. 

On  the  physical  side,  these  hallucinations  answer 
to  cerebral  excitations  which  are  central  or  automatic, 
not  depending  on  movements  transmitted  from  the 
periphery  of  the  nervous  system.  Of  these  stimula¬ 
tions  some  appear  to  be  direct,  and  due  to  unknown 
influences  exerted  by  the  state  of  nutrition  of  the 
cerebral  elements,  or  the  action  of  the  contents  of  the 
blood-vessels  on  these  elements. 

Effects  of  Direct  Central  Stimulation. 

That  such  action  does  prompt  a  large  number  of 
dream-images  may  be  regarded  as  fairly  certain.  First 
of  all,  it  seems  impossible  to  account  for  all  the  images 
of  dream-fancy  as  secondary  phenomena  connected  by 
links  of  association  with  the  foregoing  classes  of  sensa¬ 
tion.  However  fine  and  invisible  many  of  the  threads 
which  hold  together  our  ideas  may  be,  they  will  hardly 


152 


DREAMS. 


explain  tlie  profusion  and  picturesque  variety  of  dream- 
imagery.  Secondly,  as  are  able  in  certain  cases  to 
infer  with  a  fair  amount  of  certainty  that  a  dream- 
image  is  due  to  such  central  stimulation.  The  common 
occurrence  that  we  dream  of  the  more  stirring  events, 
the  anxieties  and  enjoyments  of  the  preceding  day, 
appears  to  show  that  \Vhen  the  cerebral  elements  are 
predisposed  to  a  certain  kind  of  activity,  as  they  are 
after  nwing  been  engaged  for  some  time  in  this  par¬ 
ticular  work,  they  are  liable  to  be  excited  by  some 
stimulus  brought  directly  to  bear  on  them  during 
sleep.  And  if  this  is  so,  it  is  not  improbable  that 
many  of  the  apparently  forgotten  images  of  persons 
and  places  which  return  with  such  vividness  in  dreams 
are  excited  by  a  mode  of  stimulation  which  is  for  the 
greater  part  confined  to  sleep.  I  say  “  for  the  greater 
part,”  because  even  in  our  indolent,  listless  moments  of 
waking  existence  such  seemingly  forgotten  ideas  some¬ 
times  return  as  though  by  a  spontaneous  movement 
of  their  own  and  by  no  discoverable  play  of  association. 

It  may  be  well  to  add  that  this  immediate  revival 
of  impressions  previously  received  by  the  brain  includes 
not  only  the  actual  perceptions  of  waking  life,  but  also 
the  ideas  derived  from  others,  the  ideal  fancies  supplied 
by  works  of  fiction,  and  even  the  images  which  our  un¬ 
aided  waking  fancy  is  wont  to  shape  for  itself.  Our  daily 
conjectures  as  to  the  future,  the  communications  to  us 
by  others  of  their  thoughts,  hopes,  and  fears, — these 
give  rise  to  numberless  vague  fugitive  images,  any 
one  of  which  may  become  distinctly  revived  in  sleep.1 

1  Even  the  “  unconscious  impressions  ”  of  waking  hours,  that  is  to 
say,  those  impressions  which  are  so  fugitive  as  to  leave  no  psychical 


REVIVAL  OF  IMAGES  IN  DREAMS. 


153 


This  throws  light  on  the  curious  fact  that  we  often 
dream  of  experiences  and  events  quite  unlike  those  of 
our  individual  life.  Tlius,  for  example,  the  common 
construction  by  the  dream-fancy  of  the  experience  of 
flight  in  mid-air,  and  the  creation  of  those  weird 
forms  which  the  terror  of  a  nightmare  is  wont  to 
bring  in  its  train,  seem  to  point  to  the  past  action  of 
waking  fancy.  To  imagine  one’s  self  flying  when 
looking  at  a  bird  is  probably  a  common  action  with 
all  persons,  at  least  in  their  earlier  years,  and  images 
of  preternaturally  horrible  beings  are  apt  to  be  sup¬ 
plied  to  most  of  us  some  time  during  life  by  nurses  or 
by  books. 

Indirect  Central  Stimulation. 

Besides  these  direct  central  stimulations,  there 
are  others  which,  in  contradistinction,  may  be  called 
indirect,  depending  on  some  previous  excitation. 
These  are,  no  doubt,  the  conditions  of  a  very  large 
number  of  our  dream-images.  There  must,  of  course, 
be  some  primary  cerebral  excitation,  whether  that  of  a 
present  peripheral  stimulation,  or  that  which  has  been 
termed  central  and  spontaneous ;  but  when  once  this 
first  link  of  the  imaginative  chain  is  supplied,  other 
links  may  be  added  in  large  numbers  through  the 
operation  of  the  forces  of  association.  One  may,  indeed, 
safely  say  that  the  large  proportion  of  the  contents  of 
every  dream  arise  in  this  way. 

trace  behind,  may  thus  rise  into  the  clear  light  of  consciousness  during 
sleep.  Maury  relates  a  curious  dream  of  his  own,  in  which  there 
appeared  a  figure  that  seemed  quite  strange  to  him,  though  he  after¬ 
wards  found  that  he  must  have  been  in  the  habit  of  meeting  the 
original  in  a  street  through  which  he  was  accustomed  to  walk  (loe 
cit.,  p.  124). 


154 


DREAMS. 


The  very  simplest  type  of  dream  excited  by  a 
present  sensation  contains  these  elements.  To  take  an 
example,  I  once  dreamt,  as  a  consequence  of  the  loud 
barking  of  a  dog,  that  a  dog  approached  me  when 
lying  down,  and  began  to  lick  my  face.  Here  the  play 
of  the  associative  forces  was  apparent :  a  mere  sensation 
of  sound  called  up  the  appropriate  visual  image,  this 
again  the  representation  of  a  characteristic  action,  and 
so  on.  So  it  is  with  the  dreams  whose  first  impulse  is 
some  central  or  spontaneous  excitation.  A  momentary 
sight  of  a  face  or  even  the  mention  of  a  name  during 
the  preceding  day  may  give  the  start  to  dream-activity  ; 
but  all  subsequent  members  of  the  series  of  images  owe 
their  revival  to  a  tension,  so  to  speak,  in  the  fine  threads 
which  bind  together,  in  so  complicated  a  way,  our  im¬ 
pressions  and  ideas. 

Among  the  psychic  accompaniments  of  these 
central  excitations  visual  images,  as  already  hinted, 
fill  the  most  conspicuous  place.  Even  auditory  images, 
though  by  no  means  absent,  are  much  less  numerous 
than  visual.  Indeed,  when  there  are  the  conditions 
for  the  former,  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  auditor^ 
effect  transforms  itself  into  a  visual  effect.  An  illus¬ 
tration  of  this  occurred  in  my  own  experience.  Trying 
to  fall  asleep  by  means  of  the  well-known  device  of 
counting,  I  suddenly  found  myself  losing  my  hold  on 
the  faint  auditory  effects,  my  imagination  transforming 
them  into  a  visual  spectacle,  under  the  form  of  a  path 
of  light  stretching  away  from  me,  in  which  the  numbers 
appeared  under  the  grotesque  form  of  visible  objects, 
tumbling  along  in  glorious  confusion. 

Next  to  these  visual  phantasms,  certain  motor 


REVIVAL  BY  WAY  OF  ASSOCIATION. 


155 


hallucinations  seem  to  be  most  prominent  in  dreams. 
By  a  motor  hallucination,  I  mean  the  illusion  that 
we  are  actually  moving  when  there  is  no  peripheral 
excitation  of  the  motor  organ.  Just  as  the  centres 
concerned  in  passive  sensation  are  susceptible  of 
centra]  stimulation,  so  are  the  centres  concerned 
in  muscular  sensation.  A  mere  impulse  in  the  centres 
of  motor  innervation  (if  we  assume  these  to  be  the 
central  seat  of  the  muscular  feelings)  may  suffice  to 
give  rise  to  a  complete  representation  of  a  fully 
executed  movement.  And  thus  in  our  sleep  we  seem 
to  walk,  ride,  float,  or  fly. 

The  most  common  form  of  motor  hallucination  is 
probably  the  vocal.  In  the  social  encounters  which 
make  up  so  much  of  our  sleep-experience,  we  are  wont 
to  be  very  talkative.  Now,  perhaps,  we  find  ourselves 
zealously  advocating  some  cause,  now  very  fierce  in 
denunciation,  now  very  amusing  in  witty  repartee,  and 
so  on.  This  imagination  of  ourselves  as  speaking,  as 
distinguished  from  that  of  hearing  others  talking,  must, 
it  is  clear,  involve  the  excitation  of  the  structures 
engaged  in  the  production  of  the  muscular  feelings 
which  accompany  vocal  action,  as  much  as,  if  not  more 
than,  the  auditory  centres.  And  the  frequency  of  this 
kind  of  dream-experience  may  be  explained,  like  that 
of  visual  imagery,  by  the  habits  of  waking  life.  The 
speech  impulse  is  one  of  the  most  deeply  rooted  of  all 
our  impulses,  and  one  which  has  been  most  frequently 
exercised  in  waking  life. 


158 


DREAMS. 


Combination  of  Dream-Elements. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  dreams  are  a  grotesque 
dissolution  of  all  order,  a  very  chaos  and  whirl  of 
images  without  any  discoverable  connection.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  few  writers  claim  for  the  mind  in  sleep 
a  power  of  arranging  and  grouping  its  incongruous 
elements  in  definite  and  even  life-like  pictures. 
Each  of  these  views  is  correct  within  certain  limits ; 
that  is  to  say,  there  are  dreams  in  which  the  strangest 
disorder  seems  to  prevail,  and  others  in  which  one 
detects  the  action  of  a  central  control.  Yet,  speaking 
generally,  sequences  of  dream-images  will  be  found  to 
be  determined  by  certain  circumstances  and  laws,  and 
so  far  not  to  be  haphazard  or  wholly  chaotic.  We 
have  now  to  inquire  into  the  laws  of  these  successions  ; 
and,  first  of  all,  we  may  ask  how  far  the  known  laws 
of  association,  together  with  the  peculiar  conditions  of 
the  sleeping  state,  are  able  to  account  for  the  various 
modes  of  dream-combination.  We  have  already  re¬ 
garded  mental  association  as  furnishing  a  large 
additional  store  of  dream-imagery ;  we  have  now  to 
consider  it  as  explaining  the  sequences  and  concatena¬ 
tions  of  our  dream-elements. 

Incoherence  of  Dreams. 

First  of  all,  then,  let  ns  look  at  the  chaotic  and 
apparently  lawless  side  of  dreaming,  and  see  whether 
any  clue  is  discoverable  to  the  centre  of  this  labyrinth. 
In  the  case  of  all  the  less  elaborately  ordered  dreams, 
in  which  sights  and  sounds  appear  to  succeed  one 
another  in  the  wildest  dance  (which  class  of  dreams 


HOW  DKEAM-ELEMENTS  COMBINE. 


157 


probably  belongs  to  the  deeper  stages  of  sleep),  the 
mind  may  with  certainty  be  regarded  as  purely 
passive,  and  the  mode  of  sequence  may  be  referred  to 
the  action  of  association  complicated  by  the  ever- 
recurring  introduction  of  new  initial  impulses,  both 
peripheral  and  central.  These  are  the  dreams  in  which 
we  are  conscious  of  being  perfectly  passive,  either  as 
spectators  of  a  strange  pageant,  or  as  borne  away  by 
some  apparently  extraneous  force  through  a  series  of 
the  most  diverse  experiences.  The  llux  of  images  in 
these  dreams  is  very  much  the  same  as  that  in  certain 
waking  conditions,  in  which  we  relax  attention,  both 
external  and  internal,  and  yield  ourselves  wholly  to 
the  spontaneous  play  of  memory  and  fancy. 

It  is  plain  at  a  glance  that  the  simultaneous  con¬ 
currence  of  wholly  disconnected  initial  impulses  will 
serve  to  impress  a  measure  of  disconnectedness  on  our 
dream-images.  From  widely  remote  parts  of  the 
organism  there  come  impressions  which  excite  each 
its  peculiar  visual  or  other  image  according  as  its 
local  origin  or  its  emotional  tone  is  the  more  distinctly 
present  to  consciousness.  Now  it  is  a  subjective  ocular 
sensation  suggesting  a  bouquet  of  lovely  flowers,  and 
close  on  its  heels  comes  an  impression  from  the  organs 
of  digestion  suggesting  all  manner  of  obstacles ;  and 
so  our  dream-fancy  plunges  from  a  vision  of  flowers  to 
one  of  dreadful  demons. 

Let  us  now  look  at  the  way  in  which  the  laws  of 
association  working  on  the  incongruous  elements  thus 
cast  up  into  our  dream-consciousness,  will  serve  to 
give  a  yet  greater  appearance  of  disorder  and  coufusion 
to  our  dream-combinations.  According  to  these  laws. 


158 


DEE  A  MS. 


any  idea  may,  under  certain  circumstances,  call  up 
another,  if  the  corresponding  impressions  have  only 
once  occurred  together,  or  if  the  ideas  have  any  degree 
of  resemblance,  or,  finally,  if  only  they  stand  in 
marked  contrast  with  one  another.  Any  accidental 
coincidence  of  events,  such  as  meeting  a  person  at  a 
particular  foreign  resort,  and  any  insignificant  re¬ 
semblance  between  objects,  sounds,  etc.,  may  thus 
supply  a  path,  so  to  speak,  from  fact  to  dream-fancy. 

In  our  waking  states  these  innumerable  paths  of 
association  are  practically  closed  by  the  supreme 
energy  of  the  coherent  groups  of  impressions  furnished 
us  from  the  world  without  through  our  organs  of  sense, 
and  also  by  the  volitional  control  of  internal  thought 
in  obedience  to  the  pressure  of  practical  needs  and 
desires.  In  dream-life  both  of  these  influences  are 
withdrawn,  so  that  delicate  threads  of  association, 
which  have  no  chance  of  exerting  their  pull,  so  to 
speak,  in  our  waking  states,  now  make  known  their 
hidden  force.  Little  wonder,  then,  that  the  filaments 
which  bind  together  these  dream-successions  should 
escape  detection,  since  even  in  our  waking  thought 
we  so  often  fail  to  see  the  connection  which  makes  us 
pass  in  recollection  from  a  name  to  a  visible  scene  or 
perhaps  to  an  emotional  vibration. 

It  is  worth  noting  that  the  origin  of  an  association 
is  often  to  be  looked  for  in  one  of  those  momentary 
half-conscious  acts  of  waking  imagination  to  which 
reference  has  already  been  made.  A  friend,  for 
example,  has  been  speaking  to  us  of  some  common 
acquaintance,  remarking  on  his  poor  health.  The 
language  calls  up,  vaguely,  a  visual  representation  of 


CONDITIONS  OF  INCOHERENT  DREAMS.  159 

the  person  sinking  in  health  and  dying.  An  associa¬ 
tion  will  thus  be  formed  between  this  person  and  the 
idea  of  death.  A  night  or  two  after,  the  image  of  this 
person  somehow  recurs  to  our  dream-fancy,  and  we 
straightway  dream  that  we  are  looking  at  his  corpse, 
watching  his  funeral,  and  so  on.  The  links  of  the 
chain  which  holds  together  these  dream-images  were 
really  forged,  in  part,  in  our  waking  hours,  though  the 
process  was  so  rapid  as  to  escape  our  attention.  It 
may  be  added,  that  in  many  cases  where  a  juxtaposition 
of  dream-images  seems  to  have  no  basis  in  waking  life, 
careful  reflection  will  occasionally  bring  to  light  some 
actual  conjunction  of  impressions  so  momentary  as  to 
have  faded  from  our  recollection. 

We  must  remember,  further,  how  great  an  apparent 
disorder  will  invade  our  imaginative  dream-life  when 
the  binding  force  of  resemblance  has  unchecked  play. 
In  waking  thought  we  have  to  connect  things  accord¬ 
ing  to  their  essential  resemblances,  classifying  objects 
and  events  for  purposes  of  knowledge  or  action,  accord¬ 
ing  to  their  widest  or  their  most  important  points  of 
similarity.  In  sleep,  on  the  contrary,  the  slightest 
touch  of  rest  mblance  may  engage  the  mind  and  affect 
the  direction  of  fancy.  In  a  sense  we  may  be  said, 
when  dreaming,  to  discover  mental  affinities  between 
impressions  and  feelings,  including  those  subtle  links 
of  emotional  analogy  of  which  I  have  already  spoken. 
This  effect  is  well  illustrated  in  a  dream  recorded  by 
M.  Maury,  in  which  lie  passed  from  one  set  of  images 
to  another  through  some  similarity  of  names,  as  that 
between  corps  and  cor.  Such  a  movement  of  fancy 
would,  of  course,  be  prevented  in  full  waking  conscious- 


DREAMS. 


IGO 

ness  by  a  predominant  attention  to  the  meaning  of  the 
sounds. 

It  will  be  possible,  I  think,  after  a  habit  of  analyz- 
ing  one’s  dreams  in  the  light  of  preceding  experience 
has  been  formed,  to  discover  in  a  good  proportion  of 
cases  some  hidden  force  of  association  which  draws 
together  the  seemingly  fortuitous  concourse  of  our 
dream-atoms.  That  we  should  expect  to  do  so  in 
every  case  is  unreasonable,  since,  owing  to  the  number¬ 
less  fine  ramifications  which  belong  to  our  familiar 
images,  many  of  the  paths  of  association  followed  by 
our  dream-fancy  cannot  be  afterwards  retraced. 

To  illustrate  the  odd  way  in  which  our  images  get 
tumbled  together  through  the  action  of  occult  asso¬ 
ciation  forces,  I  will  record  a  dream  of  my  own.  I 
fancied  I  was  at  the  house  of  a  distinguished  literary 
acquaintance,  at  her  usual  reception  hour.  I  expected 
the  friends  I  was  iu  the  habit  of  meeting  there. 
Instead  of  this,  I  saw  a  number  of  commonly  dressed 
people  having  tea.  My  hostess  came  up  and  apolo¬ 
gized  for  having  asked  me  into  this  room.  It  was,  she 
said,  a  tea-party  which  she  prepared  for  poor  people  at 
sixpence  a  head.  After  puzzling  over  this  dream,  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  missing  link  was  a 
verbal  one.  A  lady  w'ho  is  a  connection  of  my 
friend,  and  bears  the  same  name,  assists  her  sister  in  a 
large  kind  of  benevolent  scheme.  I  may  add  that  I 
had  not,  so  far  as  I  could  recollect,  had  occasion  very 
recently  to  think  of  this  benevolent  friend,  but  I  had 
been  thinking  of  my  literary  friend  in  connection  with 
her  anticipated  return  to  town. 

In  thus  seeking  to  trace,  amid  the  superficial  chaos 


DREAM-FANCY  AS  CONSTRUCTIVE. 


1G1 


of  dream-fancy,  its  hidden  connections,  I  make  no 
pretence  to  explain  why  in  any  given  case  these 
particular  paths  of  association  should  be  followed,  and 
more  particularly  why  a  slender  thread  of  association 
should  exert  a  pull  where  a  stronger  cord  fails  to  do  so. 
To  account  for  this,  it  would  be  necessary  to  call  in 
the  physiological  hypothesis  that  among  the  nervous 
elements  connected  with  a  particular  element,  a ,  already 
excited,  some,  as  m  and  n,  are  at  the  moment,  owing  to 
the  state  of  their  nutrition  or  their  surrounding  in¬ 
fluences,  more  powerfully  predisposed  to  activity  than 
other  elements,  as  b  and  c. 

The  subject  of  association  naturally  conducts  us  to 
the  second  great  problem  in  the  theory  of  dreams — the 
explanation  of  the  order  in  which  the  various  images 
group  themselves  in  all  our  more  elaborate  dreams. 

Coherence  of  Dreams. 

A  fully  developed  dream  is  a  complex  of  many 
distinct  illusory  sense-presentations:  in  this  respect  it 
differs  from  the  illusions  of  normal  waking  life,  which 
are  for  the  most  part  single  and  isolated.  And  this 
complex  of  quasi-presentations  appears  somehow  or 
other  to  fall  together  into  one  whole  scene  or  series 
of  events,  which,  though  it  may  be  very  incongruous 
and  absurdly  impossible  from  a  waking  point  of  view, 
nevertheless  makes  a  single  object  for  the  dreamer's 
internal  vision,  and  has  a  certain  degree  of  artistic 
unity.  This  plastic  force,  which  selects  and  binds 
together  our  unconnected  dream-images,  has  frequently 
been  referred  to  as  a  mysterious  spiritual  faculty, 
under  the  name  of  “creative  fancy.”  Thus  Cudworth 


162 


DREAMS. 


remarks,  in  his  Treatise  concerning  Eternal  and  Im¬ 
mutable  Morality:  “That  dreams  are  many  times 
begotten  by  the  phantastical  power  of  the  soul  itself 
.  .  .  is  evident  from  the  orderly  connection  and 
coherence  of  imaginations  which  many  times  are  con¬ 
tinued  in  a  long  chain  or  series.”  One  may  find  a  good 
deal  of  mystical  writing  on  the  nature  and  activity  of 
this  faculty,  especially  in  German  literature.  The  ex¬ 
planation  of  this  element  of  organic  unity  in  dreams 
is,  it  may  be  safely  said,  the  crux  in  the  science  of 
dreams.  That  the  laws  of  psychology  help  us  to 
understand  the  sequences  of  dream-images,  we  have 
seen.  What  we  have  now  to  ask  is  whether  these  laws 
throw  any  light  on  the  orderly  grouping  of  the  ele¬ 
ments  so  brought  up  in  consciousness  in  the  form  of  a 
connected  experience. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  at  the  outset  that  a  singular 

O 

kind  of  unity  is  sometimes  given  to  our  dream-com¬ 
binations  by  a  total  or  partial  coalescence  of  different 
images.  The  conditions  of  such  coalescence  have  been 
referred  to  already.1  Simultaneous  impressions  or 
images  will  always  tend  to  coalesce  with  a  force  which 
varies  directly  as  the  degree  of  their  similarity.  Some¬ 
times  this  coalescence  is  instantaneous  and  not  made 
known  to  consciousness.  Thus,  Eadestock  suggests 
that  if  the  mind  of  the  sleeper  is  simultaneously  in¬ 
vaded  by  an  unpleasant  sensation  arising  out  of  some 
disturbance  of  the  functions  of  the  skin,  and  a  subjec¬ 
tive  visual  sensation,  the  resulting  mental  image  may 
be  a  combination  of  the  two,  under  the  form  of  a' 
caterpillar  creeping  over  the  bodily  surface.  And  the 
1  See  p.  53. 


TRANSFORMATION  OF  IMAGES. 


J  63 


coalescence  may  even  be  prepared  by  sub-conscious 
operations  of  waking  imagination.  Thus,  for  example, 
I  once  spoke  about  the  cheapness  of  hares  to  a  member 
of  my  family,  who  somewhat  grimly  suggested  that  they 
were  London  cats.  I  did  not  dwell  on  the  idea,  but 
the  following  night  I  dreamt  that  I  saw  a  big  hybrid 
creature,  half  hare,  half  cat,  sniffing  about  a  cottage. 
As  it  stood  on  its  hind  legs  and  took  a  piece  of  food 
from  a  window-ledge,  I  became  sure  that  it  was  a  cat. 
Here  it  is  plain  that  the  cynical  observation  of  my 
relative  had,  at  the  moment,  partially  excited  an  image 
of  this  feline  hare.  In  some  dreams,  again,  we  may 
become  aware  of  the  process  of  coalescence,  as  when 
persons  who  at  one  moment  were  seen  to  be  distinct 
appear  to  our  dream-fancy  to  run  together  in  some 
third  person. 

A  very  similar  kind  of  unification  takes  place  be¬ 
tween  sequent  images  under  the  form  of  transformation. 
When  two  images  follow  one  another  closely,  and  have 
anything  in  common,  they  readily  assume  the  form  of  a 
transmutation.  There  is  a  sort  of  overlapping  of  the 
mental  images,  and  so  an  appearance  of  continuity  pro¬ 
duced  in  some  respects  analogous  to  that  which  arises 
in  the  wheel-of-life  (thaumatrope)  class  of  sense-illusions. 
This  would  seem  to  account  for  the  odd  transformations 
of  personality  which  not  unfrequently  occur  in  dreams, 
in  which  a  person  appears,  by  a  kind  of  metempsychosis, 
to  transfer  his  physical  ego  to  another,  and  in  which  the 
dreamer’s  own  bodily  phantom  plays  similar  freaks. 
And  the  same  principle  probably  explains  those  dis¬ 
solving-view  effects  which  are  so  familiar  an  accom¬ 
paniment  of  dream-scenery.1 

1  See  Maury,  loc.  cit.,  p.  146. 


164 


DREAMS. 


But  passing  from  this  exceptional  kind  of  unity  in 
dreams,  let  us  inquire  how  the  heterogeneous  elements 
of  our  dream-fancy  become  ordered  and  arranged  when 
they  preserve  their  separate  existence.  If  we  look 
closely  at  the  structure  of  our  more  finished  dreams,  we 
find  that  the  appearance  of  harmony,  connectedness,  or 
order,  may  be  given  in  one  of  two  ways.  There  may, 
first  of  all,  be  a  subjective  harmony,  the  various  images 
being  held  together  by  an  emotional  thread.  Or  there 
may,  secondly,  be  an  objective  harmony,  the  parts  of 
the  dream,  though  answering  to  no  particular  experi¬ 
ences  of  waking  life,  bearing  a  certain  resemblance  to 
our  habitual  modes  of  experience.  Let  us  inquire  into 
the  way  in  which  each  kind  of  order  is  brought  about. 

Lyrical  Element  in  Er earns. 

The  only  unity  that  belongs  to  many  of  our  dreams 
is  a  subjective  emotional  unity.  This  is  the  basis  of 
harmony  in  lyrical  poetry,  where  the  succession  of 
images  turns  mainly  on  their  emotional  colouring. 
Thus,  the  images  that  float  before  the  mind  of  the  Poet 
Laureate,  in  his  In  Memoriam ,  clearly  have  their  link 
of  connection  in  their  common  emotional  tone,  rather 
than  in  any  logical  continuity.  Dreaming  has  been 
likened  to  poetic  composition,  and  certainly  many  of 
our  dreams  are  built  upon  a  groundwork  of  lyrical 
feeling.  They  might  be  marked  off,  perhaps,  as  our 
lyrical  dreams. 

The  way  in  which  this  emotional  force  acts  in 
these  cases  has  already  been  hinted  at.  We  have  seen 
that  the  analogy  of  feeling  is  a  common  link  between 
dream-images.  Now,  if  any  shade  of  feeling  becomes 


DREAM-STRUCTURE  AND  FEELING. 


165 


fixed  and  dominant  in  the  mind,  it  will  tend  to  control 
all  the  images  of  the  time,  allowing  certain  congruous 
ones  to  enter,  and  excluding  others.1  If,  for  example, 
a  feeling  of  distress  occupies  the  mind,  distressing 
images  will  have  the  advantage  in  the  struggle  for 
existence  which  goes  on  in  the  world  of  mind  as  well 
as  in  that  of  matter.  We  may  say  that  attention, 
which  is  here  wholly  a  passive  process,  is  controlled  by 
the  emotion  of  the  time,  and  bent  in  the  direction  of 
congruent  or  harmonious  images. 

Now,  a  ground-tone  of  feeling  of  a  certain  com¬ 
plexion,  answering  to  the  sum  of  sensations  arising  in 
connection  with  the  different  organic  processes  of  the 
time,  is  a  very  frequent  foundation  of  our  dream- 
structure.  So  frequent  is  it,  indeed,  that  one  might 
almost  say  there  is  no  dream  in  which  it  is  not  one 
great  determining  factor.  The  analysis  of  a  very  large 
number  of  dreams  has  convinced  me  that  traces  of  this 
influence  are  discoverable  in  a  great  majority. 

I  will  give  a  simple  illustration  of  this  lyrical  type 
of  dream.  A  little  girl  of  about  four  years  and  three- 
quarters  went  with  her  parents  to  Switzerland.  On 
their  way  she  was  taken  to  the  cathedral  at  Strasburg, 
and  saw  the  celebrated  clock  strike,  and  the  figures  of 
the  Apostles  come  out,  etc.  In  Switzerland  she  stayed 
at  Gimmelwald,  near  Miirren,  opposite  a  fine  mass  of 
snowy  mountains.  One  morning  she  told  her  father 
that  she  had  had  “  such  a  lovely  dream.”  She  fancied 
she  was  on  the  snow-peaks  with  her  nurse,  and  walked 
on  to  the  sky.  There  came  out  of  the  sky  “  such 

1  See  what  was  said  respecting  the  influence  of  a  dominant 
emotional  agitation  on  the  interpretation  of  actual  sense-impressions. 


166 


DREAMS. 


beautiful  things,”  just  like  the  figures  of  the  clock. 
This  vision  of  celestial  things  was  clearly  due  to  the 
fact  that  both  the  clock  and  the  snow-peaks  touching 
the  blue  sky  had  powerfully  excited  her  imagination, 
filling  her  with  much  the  same  kind  of  emotion, 
namely,  wonder,  admiration,  and  longing  to  reach  an 
inaccessible  height. 

Our  feelings  commonly  have  a  gradual  rise  and 
fall,  and  the  organic  sensations  which  so  often  con¬ 
stitute  the  emotional  basis  of  our  lyrical  dreams 
generally  have  stages  of  increasing  intensity.  More¬ 
over,  such  a  persistent  ground-feeling  becomes  rein¬ 
forced  by  the  images  which  it  sustains  in  consciousness. 
Hence  a  certain  crescendo  character  in  our  emotional 
dreams,  or  a  gradual  rise  to  some  culminating  point  or 
climax. 

This  phase  of  dream  can  be  illustrated  from  the 
experience  of  the  same  little  girl.  When  just  five 
years  old,  she  was  staying  at  Hampstead,  near  a  church 
which  struck  the  hours  somewhat  loudly.  One  morn¬ 
ing  she  related  the  following  dream  to  her  father  (I 
use  her  own  language).  The  biggest  bells  in  the  world 
were  ringing ;  when  this  was  over  the  earth  and  houses 
began  to  tumble  to  pieces;  all  the  seas,  rivers,  and  ponds 
flowed  together,  and  covered  all  the  land  with  black 
water,  as  deep  as  in  the  sea  where  the  ships  sail ; 
people  were  drowned ;  she  herself  flew  above  the 
water,  rising  and  falling,  fearing  to  fall  in ;  she  then 
saw  her  mamma  drowned,  and  at  last  flew  home  to  tell 
her  papa.  The  gradual  increase  of  alarm  and  distress 
expressed  in  this  dream,  having  its  probable  cause  in 
the  cumulative  effect  of  the  disturbing  sound  of  the 
church  bells,  must  be  patent  to  all. 


EXAMPLES  OF  LYRICAL  DREAMS. 


167 


The  following  rather  comical  dream  illustrates  quite 
ns  clearly  the  growth  of  a  feeling  of  irritation  and 
vexation,  probably  connected  with  the  development  of 
some  slightly  discomposing  organic  sensation.  I  dreamt 
I  was  unexpectedly  called  on  to  lecture  to  a  class  of 
young  women,  on  Herder.  I  began  hesitatingly,  with 
some  vague  generalities  about  the  Augustan  age  of 
German  literature,  referring  to  the  three  well-known 
names  of  Lessing,  Schiller,  and  Goethe.  Immediately 
my  sister,  who  suddenly  appeared  in  the  class,  took  me 
up,  and  said  she  thought  there  was  a  fourth  distin¬ 
guished  name  belonging  to  this  period.  I  was  annoyed 
at  the  interruption,  but  said,  with  a  feeling  of  triumph, 
“  I  suppose  you  mean  Wieland  ?  ”  and  then  appealed  to 
the  class  whether  there  were  not  twenty  persons  who 
knew  the  names  I  had  mentioned  to  one  who  knew  Wie- 
land’s  name.  Then  the  class  became  generally  dis¬ 
orderly.  My  feeling  of  embarrassment  gained  in  depth. 
Finally,  as  a  climax,  several  quite  young  girls,  about 
ten  years  and  less,  came  and  joined  the  class.  The 
dream  broke  off  abruptly  as  I  was  in  the  act  of  taking 
these  children  to  the  wife  of  an  old  college  tutor,  to 
protest  against  their  admission. 

It  is  worth  noting,  perhaps,  that  in  this  evolution 
of  feeling  in  dreaming  the  quality  of  the  emotion 
may  vary  within  certain  limits.  One  shade  of  feeling 
may  be  followed  by  another  and  kindred  shade,  so 
that  the  whole  dream  still  preserves  a  degree,  though 
a  less  obvious  degree,  of  emotional  unity.  Thus,  for 
example,  a  lady  friend  of  mine  once  dreamt  that  she 
was  in  church,  listening  to  a  well-known  novelist  of 
the  more  earnest  sort,  preaching.  A  wounded  soldier 


1G8 


DREAMS. 


was  brought  in  to  be  shot,  because  be  was  mortally 
wounded,  and  bad  distinguished  himself  by  bis  bravery. 
Ho  was  then  shot,  but  not  killed,  and,  rolling  over  in 
agony,  exclaimed,  “  How  long !  ”  The  development 
of  an  extreme  emotion  of  horror  out  of  the  vague 
feeling  of  awe  which  is  associated  with  a  church,  gives 
a  curious  interest  to  this  dream. 

Verisimilitude  in  Dreams. 

I  must  not  dwell  longer  on  this  emotional  basis 
of  dreams,  but  pass  to  the  consideration  of  the  second 
and  objective  kind  of  unity  which  characterizes  many 
of  our  more  elaborate  dream-performances.  In  spite 
of  all  that  is  fitful  and  grotesque  in  dream-combi¬ 
nation,  it  still  preserves  a  distant  resemblance  to  our 
actual  experience.  Though  no  dream  reproduces  a 
particular  incident  or  chain  of  incidents  in  this  ex¬ 
perience,  though  the  dream-fancy  invariably  trans¬ 
forms  the  particular  objects,  relations,  and  events  of 
waking  life,  it  still  makes  the  order  of  our  daily 
experience  its  prototype.  It  fashions  its  imaginary 
world  on  the  model  of  the  real.  Thus,  objects  group 
themselves  in  space,  and  act  on  one  another  conform¬ 
ably  to  these  perceived  space-relations ;  events  succeed 
one  another  in  time,  and  are  often  seen  to  be  connected; 
men  act  from  more  or  less  intelligible  motives,  and 
so  on.  In  this  way,  though  the  dream-fancy  sets  at 
nought  the  particular  relations  of  our  experience,  it 
respects  the  general  and  constant  relations.  How  are 
we  to  account  for  this  ? 

It  is  said  by  certain  philosophers  that  this  super¬ 
position  of  the  relations  of  space,  time,  causation, 


RATIONAL  CONGRUITY  IN  DREAMS. 


169 


etc.,  on  the  products  of  our  dream-fancy  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  all  experience  arises  by  a  synthesis  of  mental 
forms  with  the  chaotic  matter  of  sense-impres-ions. 
These  philosophers  allow,  however,  that  all  particular 
connections  are  determined  by  experience.  Accord¬ 
ingly,  what  we  have  to  do  here  is  to  inquire  how  far 
this  scientific  method  of  explaining  mental  connec¬ 
tions  by  facts  of  experience  will  carry  us.  In  other 
words,  we  have  to  ask  what  light  can  be  thrown  on 
these  tendencies  of  dream-imagination  by  ascertained 
psychological  laws,  and  more  particularly  by  what  are 
known  as  the  laws  of  association. 

These  laws  tell  us  that  of  two  mental  phenomena 
which  occur  together,  each  will  tend  to  recall  the 
other  whenever  it  happens  to  be  revived.  On  the 
physiological  side,  this  means  that  any  two  parts  of 
the  nervous  structures  which  have  acted  together 
become  in  some  way  connected,  so  that  when  one 
part  begins  to  work  the  other  will  tend  to  work  also. 
But  it  is  highly  probable  that  a  particular  structure 
acts  in  a  great  many  different  ways.  Thus,  it  may  be 
stimulated  by  unlike  modes  of  stimuli,  or  it  may  enter 
into  very  various  connections  with  other  structures. 
What  will  follow  from  this?  One  consequence  would 
appear  to  be  that  there  will  be  developed  an  organic 
connection  between  the  two  structures,  of  such  a  kind 
that  whenever  one  is  excited  the  other  will  be  disposed 
to  act  somehow  and  anyhow,  even  when  there  is  nothing 
in  the  present  mode  of  activity  of  the  first  structure  to 
determine  the  second  to  act  in  some  one  definite  way, 
in  other  words,  when  this  mode  of  activity  is,  roughly 
speaking,  novel. 


170 


DREAMS. 


Let  me  illustrate  this  effect  in  one  of  the  simplest 
cases,  that  of  the  visual  organ.  If,  when  walking 
out  on  a  claik  night,  a  few  points  in  my  retina  are 
suddenly  stimulated  by  rays  of  light,  and  I  recognize 
some  luminous  object  in  a  corresponding  direction,  I 
am  prepared  to  see  something  above  and  below,  to  the 
right  and  to  the  left  of  this  object.  Why  is  this? 
There  may  from  the  first  have  been  a  kind  of  innate 
understanding  among  contiguous  optic  fibres,  predis¬ 
posing  them  to  such  concerted  action.  But  however 
this  be,  this  disposition  would  seem  to  have  been 
largely  promoted  by  the  fact  that,  throughout  my 
experience,  the  stimulation  of  any  retinal  point  has 
been  connected  with  that  of  adjoining  points,  either 
simultaneously  by  some  second  object,  or  successively 
by  the  same  object  as  the  eye  moves  over  it,  or  as 
the  object  itself  moves  across  the  field  of  vision. 

When,  therefore,  in  sleep  any  part  of  the  optic 
centres  is  excited  in  a  particular  way,  and  the  images 
thus  arising  have  their  corresponding  loci  in  space 
assigned  to  them,  there  will  be  a  disposition  to  refer 
any  other  visual  images  which  happen  at  the  moment 
to  arise  in  consciousness  to  adjacent  parts  of  space. 
The  character  of  these  other  images  will  be  determined 
by  other  special  conditions  of  the  moment;  their  locality 
or  position  in  space  will  be  determined  by  this  organic 
connection.  We  may,  perhaps,  call  these  tendencies 
to  concerted  action  of  some  kind  general  associative 
dispositions. 

Just  as  there  are  such  dispositions  to  united  action 
among  various  parts  of  one  organ  of  sense,  so  there 
may  be  among  different  organs,  which  are  either  con- 


ASSOCIATIVE  DISPOSITIONS.  . 


171 


nected  originally  in  the  infant  organism,  or  have 
communications  opened  up  by  frequent  coexcitation 
of  the  two.  Such  links  there  certainly  are  between 
the  organs  of  taste  and  smell,  and  between  the  ear  and 
the  muscular  system  in  general,  and  more  particu¬ 
larly  the  vocal  organ.1  A  new  odour  often  sets  us 
asking  how  the  object  would  taste,  and  a  series  of 
sounds  commonly  disposes  us  to  movement  of  some 
kind  or  another.  How  far  there  may  be  liner  threads 
of  connection  between  other  organs,  such  as  the  eye 
and  the  ear,  which  do  not  betray  themselves  amid  the 
stronger  forces  of  waking  mental  life,  one  cannot  say. 
Whatever  their  number,  it  is  plain  that  they  will 
exert  their  influence  within  the  comparatively  narrow- 
limits  of  dream-life,  serving  to  impress  a  certain  cha¬ 
racter  on  the  images  which  happen  to  be  called  up 
by  special  circumstances,  and  giving  to  the  combina¬ 
tion  a  slight  measure  of  congruity.  Thus,  if  I  were 
dreaming  that  I  heard  some  lively  music,  and  at  the 
same  time  an  image  of  a  friend  -was  anyhow  excited, 
my  dream-fancy  might  not  improbably  represent  this 
person  as  performing  a  sequence  of  rhythmic  move¬ 
ments,  such  as  those  of  riding,  dancing,  etc. 

A  narrower  field  for  these  general  associative  dis¬ 
positions  may  be  found  in  the  tendency,  on  the  recep¬ 
tion  of  an  impression  of  a  given  character,  to  look  for 
a  certain  kind  of  second  impression;  though  the  exact 
nature  of  this  is  unknown.  Thus,  for  example,  the 

1  It  is  proved  experimentally  that  the  ear  has  a  much  closer 
organic  connection  with  the  vocal  organ  than  the  eye  has.  Donders 
found  that  the  period  required  for  responding  vocally  to  a  sound- 
signal  is  less  than  that  required  for  responding  in  the  same  way  to  a 
light-signal. 


172 


DREAMS. 


form  and  colour  of  a  new  flower  suggest  a  scent,  and 
the  perception  of  a  human  form  is  accompanied  by  a 
vague  representation  of  vocal  utterances.  These  general 
tendencies  of  association  appear  to  me  to  be  most 
potent  influences  in  our  dream-life.  The  many  strange 
human  forms  which  float  before  our  dream-fancy  are 
apt  to  talk,  move,  and  behave  like  men  and  women  in 
general,  however  little  they  resemble  their  actual  pro¬ 
totypes,  and  however  little  individual  consistency  of 
character  is  preserved  by  each  of  them.  Special  con¬ 
ditions  determine  what  they  shall  say  or  do ;  the 
general  associative  disposition  accounts  for  their  saying 
or  doing  something. 

We  thus  seem  to  find  in  the  purely  passive  pro¬ 
cesses  of  association  some  ground  for  that  degree  of 
natural  coherence  and  rational  order  which  our  more 
mature  dreams  commonly  possess.  These  processes  go 
far  to  explain,  too,  that  odd  mixture  of  rationality 
with  improbability,  of  natural  order  and  incongruity, 
which  characterizes  our  dream-combinations. 

Rationed  Construction  in  Dreams. 

Nevertheless,  I  quite  agree  with  Herr  Yolkelt  that 
association,  even  in  the  most  extended  meaning,  cannot 
explain  all  in  the  shaping  of  our  dream-pictures.  The 
“  phantastical  power”  which  Cud  worth  talks  about 
clearly  includes  something  besides.  It  is  an  erroneous 
supposition  that  when  we  are  dreaming  there  is  a  com¬ 
plete  suspension  of  the  voluntary  powers,  and  conse¬ 
quently  an  absence  of  all  direction  of  the  intellectual 
processes.  This  supposition,  which  has  been  maintained 
by  numerous  writers,  from  Dugald  Stewart  downwards, 


VOLUNTARY  ATTENTION  IN  DREAMS. 


17:1 

seems  to  be  based  on  the  fact  that  we  frequently  find 
ourselves  in  dreams  striving  in  vain  to  move  the  whole 
body  or  a  limb.  But  this  only  shows,  as  M.  Maury 
remarks  in  the  work  already  referred  to,  that  our 
volitions  are  frustrated  through  the  inertia  of  our 
bodily  organs,  not  that  these  volitions  do  not  take 
place.  In  point  of  fact,  the  dreamer,  not  to  speak  of 
the  somnambulist,  is  often  conscious  of  voluntarily  going 
through  a  series  of  actions.  This  exercise  of  volition 
is  shown  unmistakably  in  the  well-known  instances  of 
extraordinary  intellectual  achievements  in  dreams,  as 
Condillac’s  composition  of  a  part  of  his  Cours  d’ Etudes. 
No  one  would  maintain  that  a  result  of  this  kind  was 
possible  in  the  total  absence  of  intellectual  action 
carefully  directed  by  the  will.  And  something  of  this 
same  control  shows  itself  in  all  our  more  fully  de¬ 
veloped  dreams. 

One  manifestation  of  this  voluntary  activity  in 
sleep  is  to  be  found  in  those  efforts  of  attention  which 
not  unfrequently  occur.  I  have  remarked  that,  speak¬ 
ing  roughly  and  in  relation  to  the  waking  condition, 
the  state  of  sleep  is  marked  by  a  subjection  of  the 
powers  of  attention  to  the  force  of  the  mental  images 
present  to  consciousness.  Yet  something  resembling 
an  exercise  of  voluntary  attention  sometimes  happens 
in  sleep.  The  intellectual  feats  just  spoken  of,  unless, 
indeed,  they  are  referred  to  some  mysterious  uncon¬ 
scious  mental  operations,  clearly  involve  a  measure  of 
volitional  guidance.  All  who  dream  frequently  are 
occasionally  aware  on  awaking  of  having  greatly  exer¬ 
cised  their  attention  on  the  images  presented  to  them 
during  sleep.  I  myself  am  often  able  to  recall  an 


174 


DREAMS. 


effort  to  see  beautiful  objects,  which  threatened  to  dis¬ 
appear  from  my  field  of  vision,  or  to  catch  faint  receding 
tones  of  preternatural  sweetness;  and  some  dreamers 
allege  that  they  are  able  to  retain  a  recollection  of  the 
feeling  of  strain  connected  with  such  exercise  of  atten¬ 
tion  in  sleep. 

The  main  function  of  this  voluntary  attention  in 
dream-life  is  seen  in  the  selection  of  those  images 
which  are  to  pass  the  threshold  of  clear  consciousness. 
I  have  already  spoken  of  a  selective  action  brought 
about  by  the  ruling  emotion.  In  this  case,  the  atten¬ 
tion  is  held  captive  by  the  particular  feeling  of  the 
moment.  Also  a  selective  process  goes  on  in  the  case 
of  the  action  of  those  associative  dispositions  just  re¬ 
ferred  to.  But  in  each  of  these  cases  the  action  of 
selective  attention  is  comparatively  involuntary,  passive, 
and  even  unconscious,  not  having  anything  of  the 
character  of  a  conscious  striving  to  compass  some  end. 
Besides  this  comparatively  passive  play  of  selective 
attention,  there  is  an  active  play,  in  which  there  is 
a  conscious  wish  to  gain  an  end ;  in  other  words,  the 
operation  of  a  definite  motive.  This  motive  may  be 
described  as  an  intellectual  impulse  to  connect  and 
harmonize  what  is  present  to  the  mind.  The  voluntary 
kind  of  selection  includes  and  transcends  each  of 
the  involuntary  kinds.  It  has  as  its  result  an  imitation 
of  that  order  which  is  brought  about  by  what  I  have 
called  the  associative  dispositions,  only  it  consciously 
aims  at  this  result.  And  it  is  a  process  controlled  by  a 
feeling,  namely,  the  intellectual  sentiment  of  consis¬ 
tency,  which  is  not  a  mode  of  emotional  excitement 
enthralling  the  will,  but  a  calm  motive,  guiding  the 


IMPULSE  TO  LOOK  FOR  ORDER. 


175 


activities  of  attention.  It  thus  bears  somewhat  the  same 
relation  to  the  emotional  selection  already  spoken  of, 
as  dramatic  creation  bears  to  lyrical  composition. 

This  process  of  striving  to  seize  some  connecting 
link,  or  thread  of  order,  is  illustrated  whenever,  in 
waking  life,  we  are  suddenly  brought  face  to  face  with 
an  unfamiliar  scene.  When  taken  into  a  factory,  we 
strive  to  arrange  the  bewildering  chaos  of  visual  im¬ 
pressions  under  some  scheme,  by  help  of  which  we  are 
said  to  understand  the  scene.  So,  if  on  entering  a 
room  we  are  plunged  in  medias  res  of  a  lively  conver¬ 
sation,  we  strive  to  find  a  clue  to  the  discussion.  When¬ 
ever  the  meaning  of  a  scene  is  not  at  once  clear,  and 
especially  whenever  there  is  an  appearance  of  confusion 
in  it,  we  are  conscious  of  a  painful  feeling  of  per¬ 
plexity,  which  acts  as  a  strong  motive  to  ever-renewed 
attention.1 

In  touching  on  this  intellectual  impulse  to  connect 
the  disconnected,  we  are,  it  is  plain,  approaching  the 
question  of  the  very  foundations  of  our  intellectual 
structure.  That  there  is  this  impulse  firmly  rooted  in 
the  mature  mind  nobody  can  doubt ;  and  that  it 
manifests  itself  in  early  life  in  the  child’s  recurring 
“  Why  ?  ”  is  equally  clear.  But  how  we  are  to  account 
for  it,  whether  it  is  to  be  viewed  as  a  mere  result  of 
the  play  of  associated  fragments  of  experience,  or  as 
something  involved  in  the  very  process  of  the  associa¬ 
tion  of  ideas  itself,  is  a  question  into  which  I  cannot 
here  enter. 

1  On  the  nature  of  this  impulse,  as  illustrated  in  waking  and  in 
sleep,  see  the  article  by  Delbceuf,  “Le  Somrmil  et  les  Reves,”  in  the 
lierue  Fhiloso/iliirjue,  June,  18S0,  p.  fi.ifi. 


17(5 


DREAMS. 


What  I  am  here  concerned  to  show  is  that  the 
search  for  consistency  and  connection  in  the  manifold 
impressions  of  the  moment  is  a  deeply  rooted  habit  of 
the  mind,  and  one  which  is  retained  in  a  measure 
during  sleep.  When,  in  this  state,  our  minds  are  in¬ 
vaded  by  a  motley  crowd  of  unrelated  images,  there 
results  a  disagreeable  sense  of  confusion ;  and  this  feeling 
acts  as  a  motive  to  the  attention  to  sift  out  those  pro¬ 
ducts  of  the  dream- fancy  which  may  be  made  to  cohere. 
When  once  the  foundations  of  a  dream -action  are  laid, 
new  images  must  to  some  extent  fit  in  with  this ;  and 
here  there  is  room  for  the  exercise  of  a  distinct  impulse 
to  order  the  chaotic  elements  of  dream-fancy  in  certain 
forms.  The  perception  of  any  possible  relation  between 
one  of  the  crowd  of  new  images  ever  surging  above  the 
"level  of  obscure  consciousness,  and  the  old  group  at 
once  serves  to  detain  it.  The  concentration  of  atten¬ 
tion  on  it,  in  obedience  to  this  impulse  to  seek  for  an 
intelligible  order,  at  once  intensifies  it  and  fixes  it, 
incorporating  it  into  the  series  of  dream-pictures. 

Here  is  a  dream  which  appears  to  illustrate  this 
impulse  to  seek  an  intelligible  order  in  the  confused 
and  disorderly.  After  being  occupied  with  correcting 
the  proofs  of  my  volume  on  Pessimism,  I  dreamt  that 
my  book  was  handed  to  me  by  my  publisher,  fully 
illustrated  with  coloured  pictures.  The  frontispiece 
represented  the  fantastic  figure  of  a  man  gesticulating 
in  front  of  a  ship,  from  which  he  appeared  to  have  just 
stepped.  My  publisher  told  me  it  was  meant  for  Hamlet, 
and  I  immediately  reflected  that  this  character  had  been 
selected  as  a  concrete  example  of  the  pessimistic  ten¬ 
dency.  I  may  add  that,  on  awaking,  I  was  distinctly 


EXAMPLES  OF  IBIPULSE  TO  ARRANGE.  177 

aware  of  having  felt  puzzled  when  dreaming,  and  of 
having  striven  to  read  a  meaning  into  the  dream. 

The  rationale  of  this  dream  seems  to  me  to  be 
somewhat  as  follows.  The  image  of  the  completed 
volume  represented,  of  course,  a  recurring  anticipatory 
image  of  waking  life.  The  coloured  plates  were  due 
probably  to  subjective  optical  sensations  simultaneously 
excited,  which  were  made  to  fit  in  (with  or  without  an 
effort  of  voluntary  attention)  with  the  image  of  the 
book  under  the  form  of  illustrations.  But  this  stage 
of  coherency  did  not  satisfy  the  mind,  which,  still 
partly  confused  by  the  incongruity  of  coloured  plates 
in  a  philosophic  work,  looked  for  a  closer  connection. 
The  image  of  Hamlet  was  naturally  suggested  in  con¬ 
nection  with  pessimism.  The  effort  to  discover  a 
meaning  in  the  pictures  led  to  the  fusion  of  this  image 
with  one  of  the  subjective  spectra,  and  in  this  way  the 
idea  of  a  Hamlet  frontispiece  probably  arose. 

The  whole  process  of  dream-construction  is  clearly 
illustrated  in  a  curious  dream  recorded  by  Professor 
Wundt.1  Before  the  house  is  a  funeral  procession  :  it 
is  the  burial  of  a  friend,  who  has  in  reality  been  dead 
for  some  time  past.  The  wife  of  the  deceased  bids 
him  and  an  acquaintance  who  happens  to  be  with  him 
go  to  the  other  side  of  the  street  and  join  the  proces¬ 
sion.  After  she  has  gone  away,  his  companion  remarks 
to  him,  “  She  only  said  that  because  the  cholera  rages 
over  yonder,  and  she  wants  to  keep  this  side  of  the 
street  to  herself.”  Then  comes  an  attempt  to  flee  from 
the  region  of  the  cholera.  Returning  to  his  house,  he 
finds  the  procession  gone,  but  the  street  strewn  with 

4  Physiclwjische  Psychologie,  p.  660. 


9 


178 


DKEAMfl. 


rich  nosegays  ;  and  he  further  observes  crowds  of  men 
who  seem  to  be  funeral  attendants,  and  who,  like  him¬ 
self,  are  hastening  to  join  the  procession.  These  are, 
oddly  enough,  dressed  in  red.  When  hurrying  on,  it 
occurs  to  him  that  he  has  forgotten  to  take  a  wreath 
for  the  coffin.  Then  he  wakes  up  with  beating  of  the 
heart. 

The  sources  of  this  dream  are,  according  to  Wundt, 
as  follows.  First  of  all,  he  had,  on  the  previous  day, 
met  the  funeral  procession  of  an  acquaintance.  Again, 
he  had  read  of  cholera  breaking  out  in  a  certain  town. 
Once  more,  he  had  talked  about  the  particular  lady 
with  this  friend,  who  had  narrated  facts  which  clearly 
proved  her  selfishness.  The  hastening  to  flee  from 
the  infected  neighbourhood  and  to  overtake  the 
procession  was  prompted  by  the  sensation  of  heart¬ 
beating.  Finally,  the  crowd  of  red  bier  followers,  and 
the  profusion  of  nosegays,  owed  their  origin  to  subjec¬ 
tive  visual  sensations,  the  “light-chaos”  which  often 
appears  in  the  dark. 

Let  us  now  see  for  a  moment  how  these  various 
elements  may  have  become  fused  into  a  connected  chain 
of  events.  First  of  all,  it  is  clear  that  this  dream  is 
built  up  on  a  foundation  of  a  gloomy  tone  of  feeling, 
arising,  as  it  would  seem,  from  an  irregularity  of  the 
heart’s  action.  Secondly,  it  owes  its  special  structure 
and  its  air  of  a  connected  sequence  of  events,  to  those 
tendencies,  passive  and  active,  to  order  the  chaotic  of 
which  I  have  been  speaking.  Let  us  try  to  trace  this 
out  in  detail. 

To  begin  with,  we  may  suppose  that  the  image  of  the 
procession  occupies  the  dreamer’s  mind.  From  quite 


A  DKEAM  ANALYZED. 


179 


another  source  the  image  of  the  lady  enters  conscious¬ 
ness,  bringing  with  it  that  of  her  deceased  husband  and 
of  the  friend  who  has  recently  been  talking  about  her. 
These  new  elements  adapt  themselves  to  the  scene, 
partly  by  the  passive  mechanism  of  associative  dispo¬ 
sitions,  and  partly,  perhaps,  by  the  activity  of  voluntary 
selection.  Thus,  the  idea  of  the  lady’s  husband  would 
naturally  recall  the  fact  of  his  death,  and  this  would  fall 
in  with  the  pre-existing  scene  under  the  form  of  the 
idea  that  he  is  the  person  who  is  now  being  buried. 
The  next  step  is  very  interesting.  The  image  of  the 
lady  is  associated  with  the  idea  of  selfish  motives. 
This  would  tend  to  suggest  a  variety  of  actions,  but  the 
one  which  becomes  a  factor  of  the  dream  is  that  which 
is  specially  adapted  to  tne  pre-existing  representations, 
namely,  of  the  procession  on  the  further  side  of  the 
street,  and  the  cholera  (which  last,  like  the  image  of 
the  funeral,  is,  we  may  suppose,  due  to  an  independent 
central  excitation).  That  is  to  say,  the  request  of  the 
lady,  and  its  interpretation,  are  a  resultant  of  a  number 
of  adaptative  or  assimilative  actions,  under  the  sway 
of  a  strong  desire  to  connect  the  disconnected,  and  a 
lively  activity  of  attention.  Once  more,  the  feeling 
of  oppression  of  the  heart,  and  the  subjective  stimu¬ 
lation  of  the  optic  nerve,  might  suggest  numberless 
images  besides  those  of  anxious  flight  and  of  red-clad 
men  and  nosegays;  they  suggest  these,  and  not  others, 
in  this  particular  case,  because  of  the  co-operation  of 
the  impulse  of  consistency,  which,  setting  out  with  the 
pre-existing  mental  images,  selects  from  among  many 
tendencies  of  reproduction  those  which  happen  to 
chime  in  with  the  scene. 


180 


DREAM® 


The  Nature  of  Dream-Intelligence. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  tbis  process  of  welding 
together  the  chaotic  materials  of  our  dreams  is  ever 
carried  out  with  anything  like  the  clear  rational  pur¬ 
pose  of  which  we  are  conscious  when  seeking,  in 
waking  life,  to  comprehend  some  bewildering  spectacle. 
At  best  it  is  a  vague  longing,  and  this  longing,  it  may 
be  added,  is  soon  satisfied.  There  is,  indeed,  something 
almost  pathetic  in  the  facility  with  which  the  dreamer’s 
mind  can  be  pacified  with  the  least  appearance  of  a 
connection.  Just  as  a  child’s  importunate  “Why?” 
is  often  silenced  by  a  ridiculous  caricature  of  an  ex¬ 
planation,  so  the  dreamer’s  intelligence  is  freed  from 
its  distress  by  the  least  semblance  of  a  uniting  order. 

It  thus  remains  true  with  respect  even  to  our  most 
coherent  dreams,  that  there  is  a  complete  suspension, 
or  at  least  a  considerable  retardation,  of  the  highest 
operations  of  judgment  and  thought ;  also  a  great 
enfeeblement,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  of  those  sentiments 
such  as  the  feeling  of  consistency  and  the  sense  of  the 
absurd  which  are  so  intimately  connected  with  these 
higher  intellectual  operations. 

In  order  to  illustrate  how  oddly  our  seemingly 
rational  dreams  caricature  the  operations  of  waking- 
thought,  I  may,  perhaps,  be  allowed  to  record  two  of 
my  own  dreams,  of  which  I  took  careful  note  at  the 
time. 

On  the  first  occasion  I  went  “  in  my  dream  ”  to 
the  “  Stores  ”  in  August,  and  found  the  place  empty. 
A  shopman  brought  me  some  large  fowls.  I  asked 
their  price,  and  he  answered,  “Tenpence  a  pound.”  I 


LIMITS  OF  DREAM-INTELLIGENCE. 


181 


then  ashed  their  weight,  so  as  to  get  an  idea  of  their 
total  cost,  and  he  replied,  “  Forty  pounds.”  Not  in 
the  least  surprised,  I  proceeded  to  calculate  their  cost: 
40  x  10  =  400  —  12  =  33 But,  oddly  enough,  I 
took  this  quotient  as  pence,  just  as  though  I  had  not 
already  divided  by  12,  and  so  made  the  cost  of  a  fowl 
to  be  2s.  9 d.,  which  seemed  to  me  a  fair  enough  price. 

In  my  second  dream  I  was  at  Cambridge,  among  a 
lot  of  undergraduates.  I  saw  a  coach  drive  up  with 
six  horses.  Three  undergraduates  got  out  of  the  coach. 
I  asked  them  why  they  had  so  many  horses,  and  they 
said,  “  Because  of  the  luggage.”  I  then  said,  “  The 
luffsaffe  is  much  more  than  the  undergraduates.  Can 
you  tell  me  how  to  express  this  in  mathematical  sym¬ 
bols  ?  This  is  the  way :  if  x  is  the  weight  of  an 
undergraduate,  then  x  +  xn  represents  the  weight  of 
an  undergraduate  and  his  luggage  together.”  I  noticed 
that  this  sally  was  received  with  evident  enjoyment.1 

We  may  say,  then,  that  the  structure  of  our  dreams, 
equally  with  the  fact  of  their  completely  illusory 
character,  points  to  the  conclusion  that  during  sleep, 
just  as  in  the  moments  of  illusion  in  waking  life,  there 

1  I  may,  perhaps,  observe,  after  giving  two  dreams  which  have  to  do 
with  mathematical  operations,  that,  though  I  was  very  fond  of  them  in 
my  college  days,  I  have  long  ceased  to  occupy  myself  with  these  pro¬ 
cesses.  I  would  add,  by  way  of  redeeming  my  dream-intelligence  from 
a  deserved  charge  of  silliness,  that  I  once  performed  a  respectable  in¬ 
tellectual  feat  when  asleep.  I  put  together  the  riddle,  “  What  might 
a  wooden  ship  say  when  her  side  was  stove  in  ?  Tremendous  !  ” 
(Trec-mend-us).  I  was  aware  of  having  tried  to  improve  on  the  form 
of  this  pun.  I  am  happy  to  say  I  am  not  given  to  punning  during 
waking  life,  though  I  had  a  fit  of  it  once.  It  strikes  me  that  punning, 
consisting  as  it  docs  essentially  of  overlooking  sense  and  attending  to 
sound,  is  just  such  a  debased  kind  of  intellectual  activity  as  one  might 
look  for  in  sleep. 


182 


DEE  AMS. 


is  a  deterioration  of  our  intellectual  life.  The  highest 
intellectual  activities  answering  to  the  least  stable 
nervous  connections  are  impeded,  and  what  of  intellect 
remains  corresponds  to  the  most  deeply  organized 
connections. 

In  this  way,  our  dream-life  touches  that  childish 
condition  of  the  intelligence  which  marks  the  decadence 
of  old  age  and  the  encroachments  of  mental  disease. 
The  parallelism  between  dreams  and  insanity  has  been 
pointed  out  by  most  writers  on  the  subject.  Kant 
observed  that  the  madman  is  a  dreamer  awake,  and 
more  recently  Wundt  has  remarked  that,  when  asleep, 
we  “can  experience  nearly  all  the  phenomena  which 
meet  us  in  lunatic  asylums.”  The  grotesqueness  of  the 
combinations,  the  lack  of  all  judgment  as  to  consistency, 
fitness,  and  probability,  are  common  characteristics 
of  the  short  night-dream  of  the  healthy  and  the  long 
day-dream  of  the  insane.1 

But  one  great  difference  marks  off  the  two  domains. 
When  dreaming,  we  are  still  sane,  and  shall  soon  prove 
our  sanity.  After  all,  the  dream  of  the  sleeper  is  cor¬ 
rected,  if  not  so  rapidly  as  the  illusion  of  the  healthy 
waker.  As  soon  as  the  familiar  stimuli  of  light  and 
sound  set  the  peripheral  sense-organs  in  activity,  and 
call  back  the  nervous  system  to  its  complete  round  of 
healthy  action,  the  illusion  disappears,  and  we  smile  at 
our  alarms  and  agonies,  saying,  “  Behold,  it  was  a 
dream !  ” 

On  the  practical  side,  the  illusions  and  hallucina¬ 
tions  of  sleep  must  be  regarded  as  comparatively  karm- 

1  See  Eadestock,  op.  cit.,  ck.  ix. ;  Vergleicliung  dee  Traumee  mit  dem 
Wdhntian. 


DREAM-LIFE  AND  INSANITY. 


183 


less.  The  sleeper,  in  healthy  conditions  of  sleep, 
ceases  to  he  an  agent,  and  the  illusions  which  enthral 
his  brain  have  no  evil  practical  consequences.  They 
may,  no  doubt,  as  we  shall  see  in  a  future  chapter, 
occasionally  lead  to  a  subsequent  confusion  of  fiction 
and  reality  in  waking  recollection.  But  with  the 
exception  of  this,  their  worst  effect  is  probably  the 
lingering  sense  of  discomfort  which  a  “  nasty  dream  ” 
sometimes  leaves  with  us,  though  this  may  be  balanced 
by  the  reverberations  of  happy  dream-emotions  which 
sometimes  follow  us  through  the  day.  And  however 
this  be,  it  is  plain  that  any  disadvantages  thus  arising 
are  more  than  made  good  by  the  consideration  that 
our  liability  to  these  nocturnal  illusions  is  connected 
with  the  need  of  that  periodic  recuperation  of  the 
higher  nervous  structures  which  is  a  prime  condition 
of  a  vigorous  intellectual  activity,  and  so  of  a  triumph 
over  illusion  during  waking  life. 

For  these  reasons  dreams  may  properly  be  classed 
with  the  illusions  of  normal  or  healthy  life,  rather  than 
with  those  of  disease.  They  certainly  lie  nearer  this 
region  than  the  very  similar  illusions  of  the  somnam¬ 
bulist,  which  with  respect  to  their  origin  appear  to  be 
more  distinctly  connected  with  a  pathological  con¬ 
dition  of  the  nervous  system,  and  which  with  respect 
to  their  practical  consequences  may  easily  prove  so 
disastrous. 

After-Dreams. 

In  concluding  this  account  of  dreams,  I  would  call 
attention  to  the  importance  of  the  transition  states 
between  sleeping  and  waking,  in  relation  to  the  pro- 


184 


DREAMS. 


duction  of  sense-illusion.  And  this  point  may  be 
touched  on  here  all  the  more  appropriately,  since  it 
helps  to  bring  out  the  close  relation  between  waking 
and  sleeping  illusion.  The  mind  does  not  pass  sud¬ 
denly  and  at  a  bound  from  the  condition  of  dream- 
fancy  to  that  of  waking  perception.  I  have  already 
had  occasion  to  touch  on  the  “  hypnagogic  state,”  that 
condition  of  somnolence  or  “  sleepiness  ”  in  which  ex¬ 
ternal  impressions  cease  to  act,  the  internal  attention 
is  relaxed,  and  the  weird  imagery  of  sleep  begins  to 
unfold  itself.  And  just  as  there  is  this  anticipation  of 
dream-hallucination  in  the  presomnial  condition,  so 
there  is  the  survival  of  it  in  the  postsomnial  condition. 
As  I  have  observed,  dreams  sometimes  leave  behind 
them,  for  an  appreciable  interval  after  waking,  a  vivid 
after-impression,  and  in  some  cases  even  the  semblance 
of  a  sense-perception. 

If  one  reflects  how  many  ghosts  and  other  mi¬ 
raculous  apparitions  are  seen  at  night,  and  when  the 
mind  is  in  a  more  or  less  somnolent  condition,  the 
idea  is  forcibly  suggested  that  a  good  proportion  of 
these  visions  are  the  debris  of  dreams.  In  some  cases, 
indeed,  as  that  of  Spinoza,  already  referred  to,  the  hal¬ 
lucination  (in  Spinoza’s  case  that  of  “  a  scurvy  black 
Brazilian  ”)  is  recognized  by  the  subject  himself  as  a 
dream-image.1  I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  W.  H.  Pollock 
for  a  fact  which  curiously  illustrates  the  position  here 
adopted.  A  lady  was  staying  at  a  country  house. 
During  the  night  and  immediately  on  waking  up  she 

1  For  Spinoza’s  experience,  given  in  his  own  words,  see  Mr.  F. 
Pollock’s  Spinoza,  p.  57 ;  cf.  what  Wundt  says  on  his  experience,  Phy- 
nologische  Peychologie,  p.  648,  footnote  2. 


AFTEE-DEEAMS  AND  SEECTEES. 


185 


had  an  apparition  of  a  strange-looking  man  in 
mediaeval  costume,  a  figure  by  no  means  agreeable, 
and  which  seemed  altogether  unfamiliar  to  her.  The 
next  morning,  on  rising,  she  recognized  the  original  of 
her  hallucinatory  image  in  a  portrait  hanging  on  the 
wall  of  her  bedroom,  which  must  have  impressed  itself 
on  her  brain  before  the  occurrence  of  the  apparition, 
though  she  had  not  attended  to  it.  Oddly  enough,  she 
now  learnt  for  the  first  time  that  the  house  at  which 
she  was  staying  had  the  reputation  of  being  haunted, 
and  by  the  very  same  somewhat  repulsive-looking  medi¬ 
eval  personage  that  had  troubled  her  inter-somnolent 
moments.  The  case  seems  to  me  to  be  typical  with 
respect  to  the  genesis  of  ghosts,  and  of  the  reputation 
of  haunted  houses. 


NOTE. 

TEE  HYPNOTIC  CONDITION. 

I  have  not  in  this  chapter  discussed  the  relation 
of  dreaming  to  hypnotism,  or  the  state  of  artificially 
produced  quasi-sleep,  because  the  nature  of  this  last 
is  still  but  very  imperfectly  understood.  In  this 
condition,  which  is  induced  in  a  number  of  ways  by 
keeping  the  attention  fixed  on  some  non-exciting  ob¬ 
ject,  and  by  weak  continuous  and  monotonous  stimu¬ 
lation,  as  stroking  the  skin,  the  patient  can  be  made 
to  act  conformably  to  the  verbal  or  other  suggestion  of 
the  operator,  or  to  the  bodily  position  which  he  is  made 
to  assume.  Thus,  for  example,  if  a  glass  containing 


186 


DEE  AMS. 


ink  is  given  to  him,  with  the  command  to  drink,  lie 
proceeds  to  drink.  If  bis  bands  are  folded,  be  proceeds 
to  act  as  if  be  were  in  cburcb,  and  so  on. 

Braid,  tbe  writer  wbo  did  so  much  to  get  at  tbe 
facts  of  hypnotism,  and  Dr.  Carpenter  wbo  bas  helped 
to  make  known  Braid’s  careful  researches,  regard  tbe 
actions  of  tbe  hypnotized  subject  as  analogous  to  ideo- 
motor  movements ;  that  is  to  say,  the  movements  due 
to  tbe  tendency  of  an  idea  to  act  itself  out  apart  from 
volition.  On  the  other  band,  one  of  tbe  latest  in¬ 
quirers  into  the  subject,  Professor  Heidenhain,  of 
Breslau,  appears  to  regard  these  actions  as  tbe  outcome 
of  “  unconscious  perceptions  ”  {Animal  Magnetism,  Eng¬ 
lish  translation,  p.  43,  etc.). 

In  the  absence  of  certain  knowledge,  it  seems 
allowable  to  argue  from  tbe  analogy  of  natural  sleep 
that  tbe  actions  of  tbe  hypnotized  patient  are  accom¬ 
panied  with  tbe  lower  forms  of  consciousness,  includ¬ 
ing  sensation  and  perception,  and  that  they  involve 
dream-like  hallucinations  respecting  tbe  external 
circumstances  of  tbe  moment.  ^Regarding  them  in  this 
light,  tbe  points  of  resemblance  between  hypnotism 
and  dreaming  are  numerous  and  striking.  Thus,  Dr. 
Heidenhain  tells  us  that  the  threshold  or  liminal 
value  of  stimulation  is  lowered  just  as  in  ordinary 
sleep  sense-activity  as  a  whole  is  lowered.  According 
to  Professor  Weinhold,  tbe  hypnotic  condition  begins 
in  a  gradual  loss  of  taste,  touch,  and  the  sense  of  tem¬ 
perature ;  then  sight  is  gradually  impaired,  while  hear¬ 
ing  remains  throughout  the  least  interfered  with.1  In 

O  O 

1  See  an  i  foresting  account  of  “  Eccent  Eesearches  on  Hypnotism,” 
by  G.  Stanley  Ilall,  in  Mind,  January,  1881. 


THE  HYPNOTIC  CONDITION. 


187 


this  way,  the  mind  of  the  patient  is  largely  cut  off  from 
the  external  world,  as  in  sleep,  and  the  power  of  orien¬ 
tation  is  lost.  Moreover,  there  are  all  the  conditions 
present,  both  positive  and  negative,  for  the  hallucina¬ 
tory  transform  ition  of  mental  images  into  percepts  just 
as  in  natural  sleep.  Thus,  the  higher  centres  connected 
with  the  operations  of  reflection  and  reasoning  are 
thrown  hors  de  combat  or,  as  Dr.  Heidenhain  has  it, 
“  inhibited.” 

The  condition  of  hypnotism  is  marked  off  from 
that  of  natural  sleep,  first  of  all,  by  the  fact  that  the 
accompanying  hallucinations  are  wholly  due  to  ex¬ 
ternal  suggestion  (including  the  effects  of  bodily 
posture).  Dreams  may,  as  we  have  seen,  be  very 
faintly  modified  by  external  influences,  but  during 
sleep  there  is  nothing  answering  to  the  perfect  control 
which  the  operator  exercises  over  the  hypnotized 
subject.  The  largest  quantity  of  our  <!  dream-stuff H 
comes,  as  we  have  seen,  from  within  and  not  from 
without  the  organism.  And  this  fact  accounts  for  the 
chief  characteristic  difference  between  the  natural  aud 
the  hypnotic  dream.  The  former  is  complex,  consist¬ 
ing  of  crowds  of  images,  and  continually  changing: 
the  latter  is  simple,  limited,  and  persistent.  As  Braid 
remarks,  the  peculiarity  of  hypnotism  is  that  the 
attention  is  concentrated  on  a  remarkably  narrow  field 
of  mental  images  and  ideas.  So  long  as  a  particular 
bodily  posture  is  assumed, so  long  does  the  corresponding 
illusion  endure.  One  result  of  this,  in  connection  with 
that  impairing  of  sensibility  already  referred  to,  is  the 
scope  for  a  curious  overriding  of  sense-impressions  by 
the  dominant  illusory  percept,  a  process  that  we  have 


1S8 


DREAMS. 


seen  illustrated  in  the  active  sense-illusions  of  waldner 
life.  Thus,  if  salt  water  is  tasted  and  the  patient  is 
told  tliat  it  is  beer,  he  complains  that  it  is  sour. 

In  being  thus  in  a  certain  rapport,  though  so 
limited  and  unintelligent  a  rapport,  with  the  ex¬ 
ternal  world,  the  mind  of  the  hypnotized  patient 
would  appear  to  be  nearer  the  condition  of  waking 
illusion  than  is  the  mind  of  the  dreamer.  It  must 
be  remembered,  however,  and  this  is  the  second 
point  of  difference  between  dreaming  and  hypnotism, 
that  the  hypnotized  subject  tends  to  act  out  his  hal¬ 
lucinations.  His  quasi-percepts  are  wont  to  trans¬ 
form  themselves  into  actions  with  a  degree  of  force 
of  which  we  see  no  traces  in  ordinary  sleep.  Why 
there  should  be  this  greater  activity  of  the  motor 
organs  in  the  one  condition  than  in  the  other,  seems 
to  be  a  point  as  yet  unexplained.  All  sense-im¬ 
pressions  and  percepts  are  doubtless  accompanied  by 
some  degree  of  impulse  to  movement,  though,  for  some 
reason  or  another,  in  natural  and  healthy  sleep  these 
impulses  are  restricted  to  the  stage  of  faint  nascent 
stirrings  of  motor  activity  which  hardly  betray  them¬ 
selves  externally.  This  difference,  involving  a  great 
difference  in  the  possible  practical  consequences  of  the 
two  conditions  of  natural  and  hypnotic  sleep,  clearly 
serves  to  bring  the  latter  condition  nearer  to  that  of 
insanity  than  the  former  condition  is  brought.  A  strong 
susceptibility  to  the  hypnotic  influence,  such  as 
Dr.  Heidenhain  describes,  might,  indeed,  easily  prove 
a  very  serious  want  of  “  adaptation  of  internal  to 
external  relations,”  whereas  a  tendency  to  dreaming 
would  hardly  prove  a  maladaptation  at  all. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTROSPECTION. 

We  Lave  now,  perhaps,  sufficiently  reviewed  sense- 
illusions,  both  of  waking  life  and  of  sleep.  And  having 
roughly  classified  them  according  to  their  structure  and 
origin,  we  are  ready  to  go  forwards  and  inquire  whether 
the  theory  thus  reached  can  be  applied  to  other  forms 
of  illusory  error.  And  here  we  are  compelled  to  inquire 
at  the  outset  if  anything  analogous  to  sense-illusion 
is  to  be  found  in  that  other  great  region  of  presentative 
cognition  usually  marked  off  from  external  perception 
as  internal  perception,  self-reflection,  or  introspection. 

Illusions  of  Introspection  defined. 

This  inquiry  naturally  sets  out  with  the  question : 
What  is  meant  by  introspection  ?  This  cannot  be 
better  defined,  perhaps,  than  by  saying  that  it  is  the 
mind’s  immediate  reflective  cognition  of  its  own  states 
as  such. 

In  one  sense,  of  course,  everything  we  know  may 
be  called  a  mental  state,  actual  or  imagined.  Thus,  a 
sense-impression  is  known,  exactly  like  any  other  feeling 
of  the  mind,  as  a  mental  phenomenon  or  mental  modifi- 


190 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTROSPECTION. 


cation.  Yet  we  do  not  usually  speak  of  introspectively 
recognizing  a  sensation.  Our  sense-impressions  are 
marked  off"  from  all  other  feelings  by  having  an  ob¬ 
jective  character,  that  is  to  say,  an  immediate  relation  to 
the  external  world,  so  that  in  attending  to  one  of  them 
our  minds  pass  away  from  themselves  in  what  Professor 
Bain  calls  the  attitude  of  objective  regard.  Introspec¬ 
tion  is  confined  to  feelings  which  want  this  intimate 
connection  with  the  external  region,  and  includes 
f-ensation  only  so  far  as  it  is  viewed  apart  from  ex¬ 
ternal  objects  and  on  its  mental  side  as  a  feeling,  a 
process  which  is  next  to  impossible  where  the  sensa¬ 
tion  has  little  emotional  colour,  as  in  the  case  of  an 
ordinary  sensation  of  sight  or  of  articulate  sound. 

This  being  so,  errors  of  introspection,  supposing 
such  to  be  found,  will  in  the  main  be  sufficiently 
distinguished  from  those  of  perception.  Even  an  hallu¬ 
cination  of  sense,  whether  setting  out  from  a  subjective 
sensation  or  not,  always  contains  the  semblance  of  a 
sense-impression,  and  so  would  not  be  correctly  classed 
with  errors  of  introspection. 

Just  as  introspection  must  be  marked  off  from 
perception,  so  must  it  be  distinguished  from  memory. 
It  may  be  contended  that,  strictly  speaking,  all  intro¬ 
spection  is  retrospection,  since  even  in  attending  to  a 
present  feeling  the  mind  is  reflectively  representing  to 
itself  the  immediately  preceding  momentary  experience 
of  that  feeling.  Yet  the  adoption  of  this  view  does 
not  hinder  us  from  drawing  a  broad  distinction  be¬ 
tween  acts  of  introspection  and  acts  of  memory. 
Introspection  must  be  regarded  as  confined  to  the 
knowledge  of  immediately  antecedent  mental  states 


SUBJECT  DEFINED. 


191 


with  reference  to  which  no  error  of  memory  can  be 
supposed  to  arise. 

It  follows  from  this  that  an  illusion  of  introspection 
could  only  be  found  in  connection  with  the  appre¬ 
hension  of  present  or  immediately  antecedent  mental 
states.  On  the  other  hand,  any  illusions  connected 
with  the  consciousness  of  personal  continuity  and  iden¬ 
tity  would  fall  rather  under  the  class  of  mnemonic  than 
that  of  introspective  error. 

Once  more,  introspection  must  be  carefully  dis¬ 
tinguished  from  what  I  have  called  belief.  Some  of 
our  beliefs  may  be  found  to  grow  out  of  and  be 
compounded  of  a  number  of  introspections.  Thus,  my 
conception  of  my  own  character,  or  my  psychological 
conception  of  mind  as  a  whole,  may  be  seen  to  arise  by 
a  combination  of  the  results  of  a  number  of  acts  of 
introspection.  Yet,  supposing  this  to  be  so,  we  must 
still  distinguish  between  the  single  presentative  act  of 
introspection  and  the  representative  belief  growing  out 
of  it. 

It  follows  from  this  that,  though  an  error  of  the 
latter  sort  might  conceivably  have  its  origin  in  one  of 
the  former;  though,  for  example,  a  man’s  illusory 
opinion  of  himself  might  be  found  to  involve  errors  of 
introspection,  yet  the  two  kinds  of  illusion  would  be 
sufficiently  unlike.  The  latter  would  be  a  simple 
presentative  error,  tire  former  a  compound  representa¬ 
tive  error. 

Finally,  in  order  to  complete  this  preliminary 
demarcation  of  our  subject-matter,  it  is  necessary  to 
distinguish  between  an  introspection  (apparent  or  real) 
of  a  feeling  or  idea,  and  a  process  of  inference  based 


192 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTEOSPECTION. 


on  this  feeling.  The  term  introspective  knowledge 
must,  it  is  plain,  be  confined  to  what  is  or  appears  to 
be  in  the  mind  at  the  moment  of  inspection. 

By  observing  this  distinction,  we  are  in  a  posiiion 
to  mark  off  an  illusion  of  introspection  from  a  fallacy 
of  introspection.  The  former  differs  from  the  latter  in 
the  absence  of  anything  like  a  conscious  process  of 
inference.  Thus,  if  we  suppose  that  the  derivation 
by  Descartes  of  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  God  from 
his  possession  of  the  idea  to  be  erroneous,  such  a  con¬ 
sciously  performed  act  of  reasoning  would  constitute  a 
fallacy  rather  than  an  illusion  of  introspection. 

We  may,  then,  roughly  define  an  illusion  of  intro¬ 
spection  as  an  error  involved  in  the  apprehension  of 
the  contents  of  the  mind  at  any  moment.  If  we  mis¬ 
take  the  quality  or  degree  of  a  feeling  or  the  structure 
of  a  complex  mass  of  feeling,  or  if  we  confuse  what  is 
actually  present  to  the  mind  with  some  inference 
based  on  this,  we  may  be  said  to  fall  into  an  illusion 
of  introspection. 

But  here  the  question  will  certainly  be  raised  : 
How  can  we  conceive  the  mind  erring  as  to  the  nature 
of  its  present  contents;  and  what  is  to  determine,  if 
not  my  immediate  act  of  introspection,  what  is  present 
in  my  mind  at  any  moment?  Indeed,  to  raise  the 
possibility  of  error  in  introspection  seems  to  do  away 
with  the  certainty  of  presentative  knowledge. 

If,  however,  the  reader  will  recall  what  was  said  in 
an  earlier  chapter  about  the  possibility  of  error  in 
recognizing  the  quality  of  a  sense-impression,  he  will 
be  prepared  for  a  similar  possibility  here.  What  we 
are  accustomed  to  call  a  purely  presentative  cognition 


IS '  INTROSPECTION  FALLIBLE?  193 

is,  in  truth,  partly  representative.  A  feeling  as  pure 
feeling  is  not  known  ;  it  is  only  known  when  it  is 
distinguished,  as  to  quality  or  degree,  and  so  classed 
or  brought  under  some  representation  of  a  kind  or 
description  of  feeling,  as  acute,  painful,  and  so  on. 
The  accurate  recognition  of  an  impression  of  colour 
depends,  as  we  have  seen,  on  this  process  of  classing 
being  correctly  performed.  Similarly,  the  recognition 
of  internal  feelings  implies  the  presence  of  the  appro¬ 
priate  or  corresponding  class-representation.  Accord¬ 
ingly,  if  it  is  possible  for  a  wrong  representation  to 
get  substituted  for  the  right  one,  there  seems  to  be  an 
opening  for  error. 

Any  error  that  w-ould  thus  arise  can,  of  course, 
only  be  determined  as  such  in  relation  to  some  other 
act  of  introspection  of  the  same  mind.  In  matters  of 
internal  perception  other  minds  cannot  directly  assist 
us  in  correcting  error  as  they  can  in  the  case  of  external 
perception,  though,  as  we  shall  see  by-and-by,  they 
may  do  so  indirectly.  The  standard  of  reality  di¬ 
rectly  applicable  to  introspective  cognition  is  plainly 
what  the  individual  mind  recognizes  at  its  best  mo¬ 
ments,  when  the  processes  of  attention  and  classify¬ 
ing  are  accurately  performed,  and  the  representation 
may  be  regarded  with  certainty  as  answering  to  the 
feeling.  In  other  words,  in  the  sphere  of  internal, 
as  in  that  of  external  experience,  the  criterion  of 
reality  is  the  average  and  perfect,  as  distinguished 
from  the  particular  variable  and  imperfect  act  of 
cognition. 

We  see,  then,  that  error  in  the  process  of  intro¬ 
spection  is  at  least  conceivable.  And  now  let  us 


194 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTROSPECTION. 


examine  this  process  a  little  farther,  in  order  to  find 
out  what  probabilities  of  error  attach  to  it. 

To  begin  with,  then,  an  act  of  introspection,  to  be 
complete,  clearly  involves  the  apprehension  of  an  in¬ 
ternal  feeling  or  idea  as  something  mental  and  marked 
off  from  the  region  of  external  experience.  This  dis¬ 
tinct  recognition  of  internal  states  of  mind  as  such,  in 
opposition  to  external  impressions,  is  by  no  means 
easy,  but  presupposes  a  certain  degree  of  intellectual 
culture,  and  a  measure  of  the  power  of  abstract  at¬ 
tention. 

Conf  usion  of  Internal  and  External  Experience. 

Accordingly,  we  find  that  where  this  is  wanting 
there  is  a  manifest  disposition  to  translate  internal  feel¬ 
ings  into  terms  of  external  impressions.  In  this  way 
there  may  arise  a  slight  amount  of  habitual  and 
approximately  constant  error.  Not  that  the  process 
approaches  to  one  of  hallucination ;  but  only  that 
the  internal  feelings  are  intuited  as  having  a  cause  or 
origin  analogous  to  that  of  sense-impressions.  Thus 
to  the  uncultivated  mind  a  sudden  thought  seems  like 
an  audible  announcement  from  without.  The  super¬ 
stitious  man  talks  of  being  led  by  some  good  or  evil 
spirit  when  new  ideas  arise  in  his  mind  or  new  reso¬ 
lutions  shape  themselves.  To  the  simple  intelligence 
of  the  boor  every  thought  presents  itself  as  an  analogue 
of  an  audible  voice,  and  he  commonly  describes  his 
rough  musings  as  saying  this  and  that  to  himself. 
And  this  mode  of  viewing  the  matter  is  reflected  even 
in  the  language  of  cultivated  persons.  Thus  we  say, 
“  The  idea  struck  me,”  or  “  was  borne  in  on  me,”  “  I 


MIND  AS  POPULAELY  CONCEIVED. 


195 


was  forced  to  do  so  and  so,”  and  so  on,  and  in  this 
manner  we  tend  to  assimilate  internal  to  external 
mental  phenomena. 

Much  the  same  thing  shows  itself  in  our  customary 
modes  of  describing  our  internal  feelings  of  pleasure 
and  pain.  When  a  man  in  a  state  of  mental  depression 
speaks  of  having  “  a  load  ”  on  his  mind  it  is  evident 
that  he  is  interpreting  a  mental  by  help  of  an  analogy 
to  a  bodily  feeling.  Similarly,  when  we  talk  of  the 
mind  being  torn  by  doubt  or  worn  by  anxiety.  It 
would  seem  as  though  we  tended  mechanically  to 
translate  mental  pleasures  and  pains  into  the  language 
of  bodily  sensations. 

The  explanation  of  this  deeply  rooted  tendency  to 
a  slightly  illusory  view  of  our  mental  states  is,  I  think, 
an  easy  one.  For  one  thing,  it  follows  from  the  relation 
of  the  mental  image  to  the  sense-impression  that  we 
should  tend  to  assimilate  the  former  to  the  latter  as 
to  its  nature  and  origin.  This  would  account  for  the 
common  habit  of  regarding  thoughts,  which  are  of 
course  accompanied  by  representatives  of  their  verbal 
symbols,  as  internal  voices,  a  habit  which  is  probably 
especially  characteristic  of  the  child  and  the  uncivilized 
man,  as  we  have  found  it  to  be  characteristic  of  the 
insane. 

Another  reason,  however,  must  be  sought  for  the 
habit  of  assimilating  internal  feelings  to  external  sen¬ 
sations.  If  language  has  been  evolved  as  an  incident 
of  social  life,  at  once  one  of  its  effects  and  its  causes, 
it  would  seem  to  follow  that  it  must  have  first  shaped 
itself  to  the  needs  of  expressing  these  common  objective 
experiences  which  we  receive  by  way  of  our  senses. 


196 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTEOSPECTION. 


Our  habitual  modes  of  thought,  limited  as  they  are 
by  language,  retain  traces  of  this  origin.  We  cannot 
conceive  any  mental  process  except  by  some  vague 
analogy  to  a  physical  process.  In  other  words,  we  can 
even  now  only  think  with  perfect  clearness  when  we 
are  concerned  with  some  object  of  common  cognition. 
Thus,  the  sphere  of  external  sensation  and  of  physical 
agencies  furnishes  us  with  the  one  type  of  thinkable 
thing  or  object  of  thought,  and  we  habitually  view 
subjective  mental  states  as  analogues  of  these. 

Still,  it  may  be  said  that  these  slight  nascent  errors 
are  hardly  worth  naming,  and  the  question  would  still 
appear  to  recur  whether  there  are  other  fully  developed 
errors  deserving  to  rank  along  with  illusions  of  sense. 
Do  we,  it  may  be  asked,  ever  actually  mistake  the 
quality,  degree,  or  structure  of  our  internal  feelings  in 
the  manner  hinted  above,  and  if  so,  what  is  the  range 
of  such  error  ?  In  order  to  appreciate  the  risks  of  such 
error,  let  us  compare  the  process  of  self-observation  with 
that  of  external  perception  with  respect  to  the  difficul¬ 
ties  in  the  way  of  accurate  presentative  knowledge. 

Misreading  of  Internal  Feelings. 

First  of  all,  it  is  noteworthy  that  a  state  of  con¬ 
sciousness  at  any  one  moment  is  an  exceedingly  com¬ 
plex  thing.  It  is  made  up  of  a  mass  of  feelings  and 
active  impulses  which  often  combine  and  blend  in  a 
most  inextricable  way.  External  sensations  come  in 
groups,  too,  but  as  a  rule  they  do  not  fuse  in  apparently 
simple  wholes  as  our  internal  feelings  often  do.  The 
very  possibility  of  perception  depends  on  a  clear  dis¬ 
crimination  of  sense-elements,  for  example,  the  several 


DIFFICULTIES  OF  INTROSPECTION. 


197 


sensations  of  colour  obtained  by  the  stimulation  of 
different  parts  of  the  retina.1  But  no  such  clearly- 
defined  mosaic  of  feelings  presents  itself  in  the  internal 
region :  one  element  overlaps  and  partly  loses  itself  in 
another,  and  subjective  analysis  is  often  an  exceedingly 
difficult  matter.  Our  consciousness  is  thus  a  closely 
woven  texture  in  which  the  mental  eye  often  fails  to 
trace  the  several  threads  or  strands.  Moreover,  there 
is  the  fact  that  many  of  these  ingredients  are  exceed¬ 
ingly  shadowy,  belonging  to  that  obscure  region  of 
sub-consciousness  which  it  is  so  hard  to  penetrate  with 
the  light  of  discriminative  attention.  This  remark 
applies  with  particular  force  to  that  mass  of  organic 
feelings  which  constitutes  what  is  known  as  ccentesthesis, 
or  vital  sense. 

While,  to  speak  figuratively,  the  minute  anatomy 
of  consciousness  is  thus  difficult  with  respect  to 
longitudinal  sections  of  the  mental  column,  it  is  no  less 
difficult  with  respect  to  transverse  sections.  Under 
ordinary  circumstances,  external  impressions  persist  so 
that  they  can  be  transfixed  by  a  deliberate  act  of 
attention,  and  objects  rarely  flit  over  the  external 
scene  so  rapidly  as  to  allow  us  no  time  for  a  careful 
recognition  of  the  impression.  Not  so  in  the  case  of 
the  internal  region  of  mind.  The  composite  states  of 
consciousness  just  described  never  remain  perfectly 
uniform  for  the  shortest  conceivable  duration.  They 
change  continually,  just  as  the  contents  of  the  kaleido¬ 
scope  vary  with  every  shake  of  the  instrument.  Thus, 

1  I  need  hardly  observe  that  physiology  shows  that  there  is  no 
separation  of  different  elementary  colour-sensations  which  are  locally 
identical. 


IDS 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTROSPECTION. 


one  shade  of  feeling  runs  into  another  in  such  a  way 
that  it  is  often  impossible  to  detect  its  exact  quality ; 
and  even  when  the  character  of  the  feeling  does  not 
change,  its  intensity  is  undergoing  alterations  so  that 
an  accurate  observation  of  its  quantity  is  impracticable. 
Also,  in  this  unstable  shifting  internal  scene  features 
may  appear  for  a  duration  too  short  to  allow  of  close 
recognition.  In  this  way  it  happens  that  we  cannot 
sharply  divide  the  feeling  of  the  moment  from  its 
antecedents  and  its  consequents. 

If,  now,  we  take  these  facts  in  connection  with 
what  has  been  said  above  respecting  the  nature  of  the 
process  of  introspection,  the  probability  of  error  will  be 
made  sufficiently  clear.  To  transfix  any  particular 
feeling  of  the  moment,  to  selectively  attend  to  it,  and 
to  bring  it  under  the  proper  representation,  is  an 
operation  that  requires  time,  a  time  which,  though 
short,  is  longer  than  the  fugitive  character  of  so  much 
of  our  internal  mental  life  allows.  From  all  of  which 
it  would  appear  to  follow  that  it  must  be  very  easy  to 
overlook,  confuse,  and  transform,  both  as  to  quality 
and  as  to  quantity,  the  actual  ingredients  of  our  in¬ 
ternal  consciousness. 

From  these  sources  there  spring  a  number  of  small 
errors  of  introspection  which,  to  distinguish  them  from 
others  to  be  spoken  of  presently,  may  be  called  passive. 
These  would  include  all  errors  in  detecting  what  is  in 
consciousness  due  to  the  intricacies  of  the  phenomena, 
and  not  aided  by  any  strong  basis.  For  example,  a 
mental  state  may  fail  to  disclose  its  component  parts  to 
introspective  attention.  Thus,  a  motive  may  enter  into 
our  action  which  is  so  entangled  with  other  feelings  as  to 


MIS-OBSERVATION  OF  FEELING. 


199 


escape  our  notice.  The  fainter  the>  feeling  the  greater 
the  difficulty  of  detaching  it  and  inspecting  it  in 
isolation.  Again,  an  error  of  introspection  may  have 
its  ground  in  the  fugitive  character  of  a  feeling.  If, 
lor  example,  a  man  is  a-ked  whether  a  rapid  action 
was  a  voluntary  one,  he  may  in  retrospection  easily 
imagine  that  it  was  not  so,  when  as  a  matter  of  fact  the 
action  was  preceded  by  a  momentary  volition.  When 
a  person  exclaims,  “  I  did  a  thing  inadvertently  or 
mechanically,”  it  often  means  that  he  did  not  note  the 
motive  underlying  the  action.  Such  transitory  feelings 
which  cannot  at  the  moment  be  seized  by  an  act  of 
attention  are  pretty  certain  to  disappear  at  once, 
leaving  not  even  a  temporary  trace  in  consciousness. 

We  will  now  pass  to  the  consideration  of  other 
illusions  of  introspection  more  analogous  to  what  I  have 
called  the  active  illusions  of  perception.  In  our  ex¬ 
amination  of  these  we  found  that  a  pure  representation 
may  under  certain  ciivumstances  simulate  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  a  presentation,  that  a  mental  image  may 
approximate  to  a  sense-impression.  In  the  case  of  the 
internal  feelings  this  liability  shows  itself  in  a  still 
more  striking  form. 

The  higher  feelings  or  emotions  are  distinguished 
from  the  simple  sense-feelings  in  being  largely  repre¬ 
sentative.  Thus,  a  feeling  of  contentment  at  any 
moment,  though  no  doubt  conditioned  by  the  bodily 
state  and  the  character  of  the  organic  sensations  or 
ccena'sthesis,  commonly  depends  for  the  most  part  on 
intellectual  representations  of  external  circumstances 
or  relations,  and  may  be  called  an  ideal  foretaste  of 
actual  satisfactions,  such  as  the  pleasures  of  success, 


200 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTROSPECTION. 


of  companionship,  and  so  on.  This  being  so,  it  is 
easy  for  imagination  to  call  np  a  semblance  of  these 
higher  feelings.  Since  they  depend  largely  on  repre¬ 
sentation,  a  mere  act  of  representation  may  suffice  to 
excite  a  degree  of  the  feeling  hardly  distinguishable 
from  the  actual  one.  Thus,  to  imagine  myself  as  con¬ 
tented  is  really  to  see  myself  at  the  moment  as  actually 
contented.  Again,  the  actor,  though,  as  we  shall  see 
by-and-by,  he  does  not  feel  all  that  the  spectator  is 
apt  to  attribute  to  him,  tends,  when  vividly  represent¬ 
ing  to  himself  a  particular  shade  of  feeling,  to  regard 
himself  as  actually  feeling  in  this  way.  Thus,  it  is  said 
of  Garrick,  that  when  acting  Richard  III.,  he  felt 
himself  lor  the  moment  to  be  a  villain. 

We  should  expect  from  all  this  that  in  the  act  of 
introspection  the  mind  is  apt,  within  certain  limits,  to 
find  what  it  is  prepared  to  find.  And  since  there  is  in 
these  acts  often  a  distinct  wish  to  detect  some  par¬ 
ticular  feeling,  we  can  see  how  easy  it  must  be  for  a 
man  through  bias  and  a  wrong  focussing  of  the  atten- 
tion  to  deceive  himself  up  to  a  certain  point  with 
respect  to  the  actual  contents  of  his  mind. 

Let  us  examine  one  of  these  active  illusions  a 
little  more  fully.  It  would  at  first  sight  seem  to  be 
a  perfectly  simple  thing  to  determine  at  any  given 
moment  whether  we  are  enjoying  ourselves,  whether 
our  emotional  condition  rises  above  the  pleasure- 
threshold  or  point  of  indifference  and  takes  on  a 
positive  hue  of  the  agreeable  or  pleasurable.  Yet 
there  is  good  reason  for  supposing  that  people  not 
unfrequently  deceive  themselves  on  this  matter.  It 
is,  perhaps,  hardly  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  most 


ACTIVE  SELF-DECEPTION. 


201 


of  us  are  capable  of  imagining  that  we  are  having 
enjoyment  when  we  conform  to  the  temporary  fashion 
of  soi  ial  amusement.  It  has  been  cynically  observed 
that  people  go  into  society  less  in  order  to  be  happy 
than  to  seem  so,  and  one  may  add  that  in  this 
semblance  of  enjoyment  they  may,  provided  they  are 
not  blase,  deceive  themselves  as  well  as  others.  The 
expectation  of  enjoyment,  the  knowledge  that  the 
occasion  is  intended  to  bring  about  this  result,  the 
recognition  of  the  external  signs  of  enjoyment  in 
others — all  this  may  serve  to  blind  a  man  in  the 
earlier  stages  of  social  amusement  to  his  actual  mental 

O 

condition. 

If  we  look  closely  into  this  variety  of  illusion,  we 
shall  see  that  it  is  very  similar  in  its  structure  and 
origin  to  that  kind  of  erroneous  perception  which  arises 
from  inattention  to  the  actual  impression  of  the 
moment  under  the  influence  of  a  strong  expectation 
of  something  different.  The  representation  of  our¬ 
selves  as  entertained  dislodges  from  our  internal  field 
of  vision  our  actual  condition,  relegating  this  to  the 
region  of  obscure  consciousness.  Could  we  for  a  mo¬ 
ment  get  rid  of  this  representation  and  look  at  the 
real  feelings  of  the  time,  we  should  become  aware 
of  our  error ;  and  it  is  possible  that  the  process  of 
becoming  blase  involves  a  waking  up  to  a  good  deal  of 
illusion  of  the  kind. 

Just  as  we  can  thus  deceive  ourselves  within  certain 
limits  as  to  our  emotional  condition,  so  we  can  mistake 
the  real  nature  of  our  intellectual  condition.  Thus, 
when  an  idea  is  particularly  grateful  to  our  minds,  we 
may  easily  imagine  that  we  believe  it,  when  in  point 


202 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTROSPECTION. 


of  fact  all  the  time  there  is  a  sub-conscious  process  of 
criticism  going  on,  which  if  we  attended  to  it  for  a 
moment  would  amount  to  a  distinct  act  of  disbelief. 
Some  persons  appear  to  be  capable  of  going  on  habitu¬ 
ally  practising  this  petty  deceit  on  themselves,  that  is 
to  say,  imagining  they  believe  what  in  fact  they  are 
strongly  inclined  to  doubt.  Indeed,  this  remark  applies 
to  all  the  grateful  illusions  respecting  ourselves  and 
others,  which  will  have  to  be  discussed  by-and-by. 
The  impulse  to  hold  to  the  illusion  in  spite  of  critical 
reflection,  involves  the  further  introspective  illusion  of 
taking  a  state  of  doubt  for  one  of  assurance.  Thus,  the 
weak,  flattered  man  or  woman  manages  to  keep  up  a 
sort  of  fictitious  belief  in  the  truth  of  the  words  which 
are  so  pleasant  to  the  ear. 

It  is  plain  that  the  external  conditions  of  life 
impose  on  the  individual  certain  habits  of  feeling 
which  often  conflict  with  his  personal  propensities. 
As  a  member  of  society  he  has  a  powerful  motive  to 
attribute  certain  feelings  to  himself,  and  this  motive 
acts  as  a  bias  in  disturbing  his  vision  of  what  is  actually 
in  his  mind.  While  this  holds  good  of  lighter  matters, 
as  that  of  enjoyment  just  referred  to,  it  applies  still 
more  to  graver  matters.  Thus,  for  example,  a  man 
may  easily  pursuade  himself  that  he  feels  a  proper 
sentiment  of  indignation  against  a  perpetrator  of  some 
mean  or  cruel  act,  when  as  a  matter  of  fact  his  feeling 
is  much  more  one  of  compassion  for  the  previously 
liked  offender.  In  this  way  we  impose  on  ourselves, 
disguising  our  real  sentiments  by  a  thin  veil  of  make* 
believe. 

So  far  I  have  spoken  of  an  illusion  of  introspection 


MAL-OBSEKVATION  OF  FEELING. 


203 


as  analogous  to  tlie  slight  misapprehensions  of  sense- 
impression  which  were  touched  on  in  connection  with 
illusions  of  sense  (Chapter  III.).  It  is  to  be  observed, 
however,  that  the  confusing  of  elements  of  conscious¬ 
ness,  which  is  so  prominent  a  factor  in  introspective 
illusion,  involves  a  species  of  error  closely  analogous  to  a 
complete  illusion  of  perception,  that  is  to  say,  one  which 
involves  a  misinterpretation  of  a  sense-impression. 

This  variety  of  illusion  is  illustrated  in  the  case  in 
which  a  present  feeling  or  thought  is  confounded  with 
some  inference  based  on  it.  For  example,  a  present 
thought  may,  through  forgetfulness,  be  regarded  as  a 
new  discovery.  Its  originality  apppars  to  be  im¬ 
mediately  made  known  in  the  very  freshness  which 
characterizes  it.  Every  author  probably  has  undergone 
the  experience  of  finding  that  ideas  which  started 
up  to  his  mind  as  fresh  creations,  were  unconscious 
reminiscences  of  his  own  or  of  somebody  else’s  ideas. 

In  the  case  of  present  emotional  states  this  liability 
to  confuse  the  present  and  the  past  is  far  greater. 
Here  there  is  something  hardly  distinguishable  from 
an  active  illusion  of  sense-perception.  In  this  con¬ 
dition  of  mind  a  man  often  says  that  he  has  an  “in¬ 
tuition”  of  something  supposed  to  be  immediately 
given  in  the  feeling  itself.  For  instance,  one  whose 
mind  is  thrilled  by  the  pulsation  of  a  new  joy  ex¬ 
claims,  “  This  is  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life,” 
and  the  assurance  seems  to  be  contained  in  the  very 
intensity  of  the  feeling  itself.  Of  course,  cool  re¬ 
flection  will  tell  him  that  what  he  affirms  is  merely 
a  belief,  the  accuracy  of  which  presupposes  processes 
of  recollection  and  judgment,  but  to  the  man’s  mind 


204 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTROSPECTION. 


at  the  moment  the  supremacy  of  this  particular  joy 
is  immediately  intuited.  And  so  with  the  assurance 
that  the  (wisent  ieeling,  for  example  of  love,  is  un¬ 
living,  that  it  is  equal  to  the  most  sc'ere  trials,  and 
so  on.  A  man  is  said  to  fed  at  the  moment  that  it  is 
so,  thougdi  as  the  facts  believed  have  reference  to 
absent  circumstances  and  events,  it  is  plain  that  the 
knowledge  is  by  no  means  intuitive. 

At  such  times  our  minds  are  in  a  state  of  pure 
feeling:  intellectual  discrimination  and  comparison  are 
no  longer  possible.  In  this  way  our  emotions  in  the 
moments  of  their  greatest  intensity  carry  away  our 
iutellects  with  them,  confusing  the  region  of  pure 
imagination  with  that  of  truth  and  certainty,  and 
even  the  narrow  domain  of  the  present  with  the  vast 
domain  of  the  past  and  future.  In  this  condition 
differences  of  present  and  future  may  be  said  to  dis¬ 
appear  and  the  energy  of  the  emotion  to  constitute 
an  immediate  assurance  of  its  existence  absolutely.1 

The  great  region  for  the  illustration  of  these  active 
illusions  is  that  of  the  moral  and  religious  life.  With 
respect  to  our  real  motives,  our  dominant  aspirations, 
and  our  highest  emotional  experiences,  we  are  greatly 
liable  to  deceive  ourselves.  The  moralist  and  the 
theologian  have  clearly  recognized  the  possibilities  of 
self-deception  in  matters  of  feeling  and  impulse.  To 

1  This  kind  of  error  is,  of  course,  common  to  all  kinds  of  cognition, 
in  so  far  as  they  involve  comparison.  Thus,  (ho  presence  of  the  ex¬ 
citement  of  the  emotion  of  wonder  at  the  sight  of  an  unusually  largo 
object,  say  a  mountain,  disposes  the  mind  to  look  on  it  as  the  largest 
of  ils  class.  Such  illusions  come  midway  between  presentative  and 
representative  illusions.  They  might,  perhaps,  be  specially  marked 
off  as  illusions  of  “judgment.” 


MORAL  SELF-SCRUTINY. 


205 


them  it  is  no  mystery  that  the  human  heart  should 
mistake  the  fictitious  for  the  real,  the  momentary  and 
evanescent  for  the  abiding.  And  they  have  recognized, 
too,  the  double  bias  in  these  errors,  namely,  the  powerful 
disposition  to  exaggerate  the  intensity  and  persistence 
of  a  present  feeling  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other 
hand  to  take  a  mere  wish  to  feel  in  a  particular  way  tor 
the  actual  possession  of  the  feeling. 

Philosophic  Illusions. 

The  opinion  of  theologians  respecting  the  nature  of 
moral  introspection  presents  a  singular  contrast  to  that 
entertained  by  some  philosophers  as  to  the  nature  of 
self-com-'ciousuess.  It  is  supposed  by  many  of  these 
that  in  interrogating  their  internal  consciousne-s  they 
are  lifted  above  all  risk  of  error.  The  “  deliverance  of 
consciousness”  is  to  them  something  bearing  the  seal 
of  a  supreme  authority,  and  must  not  be  called  in 
question.  And  so  they  make  an  appeal  to  individual 
consciousness  a  final  resort  in  all  matters  of  philo¬ 
sophical  dispute. 

Now,  on  the  face  of  it,  it  does  not  seem  probable 
that  this  operation  should  have  an  immunity  from  all 
liability  to  error.  For  the  matters  respecting  which 
we  are  directed  to  introspect  ourselves,  are  the  most 
subtle  and  complex  things  of  our  intellectual  and 
emotional  life.  And  some  of  these  philosophers  even 
go  so  far  as  to  affirm  that  the  plain  man  is  quite  equal 
to  the  niceties  of  this  process. 

It  has  been  brought  as  a  charge  against  some  of 
these  same  philosophers  that  they  have  based  certain 
of  their  doctrines  on  errors  of  introspection.  This 


2U0 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTROSPECTION. 


charge  must,  of  course,  be  received  with  some  sort  of 
suspicion  here,  since  it  has  been  brought  forward  by 
avowed  disciples  of  an  opposite  philosophic  school. 
Nevertheless,  as  there  is  from  our  present  di>interested 
and  purely  scientific  point  of  view  a  presumption  that 
philosophers  like  other  men  are  fallible,  and  since  it  is 
certain  that  philosopical  introspection  does  not  materi¬ 
ally  differ  from  other  kinds,  it  seems  permissible  just 
to  glance  at  some  of  these  alleged  illusions  in  relation 
to  other  and  more  vulgar  forms.  Further  reference  to 
them  will  be  made  at  the  end  of  our  study. 

These  so-called  philosophical  illusions  will  be  found, 
like  the  vulgar  ones  just  spoken  of,  to  illustrate  the 
distinction  drawn  between  passive  and  active  illusions. 
That  is  to  say,  the  alleged  misreading  of  individual 
consciousness  would  result  now  from  a  confusion  of 
distinct  elements,  including  wrong  suggestion,  due  to 
the  intricacies  of  the  phenomena,  now  from  a  powerful 
predisposition  to  read  something  into  the  phenomena. 

A  kind  of  illusion  in  which  the  passive  element 
seems  most  conspicuous  would  be  the  error  into  which 
the  interrogator  of  the  individual  consciousness  is  said 
to  fall  respecting  simple  unanalyzable  states  of  mind. 
On  the  face  of  it,- it  is  not  likely  that  a  mere  inward 
glance  at  the  tangle  of  conscious  states  should  suffice 
to  determine  what  is  such  a  perfectly  simple  mental 
phenomenon.  Accordingly,  when  a  writer  declares 
that  an  act  of  introspection  demonstrates  the  simple 
unanalyzable  character  of  such  a  feeling  as  the  senti¬ 
ment  of  beauty  or  that  of  moral  approval,  the  opponent 
of  this  view  clearly  has  some  show  of  argument  for 
saying  that  this  simplicity  may  be  altogether  illusory 


MIS-INTROSPECTION  IN  PHILOSOPHY. 


207 


and  due  to  the  absence  of  a  perfect  act  of  attention, 
Similarly,  when  it  is  said  that  the  idea  of  space 
contains  no  representations  of  muscular  sensation,  the 
statement  may  clearly  arise  from  the  want  of  a 
sufficiently  careful  kind  of  introspective  analysis.1 

In  most  cases  of  these  alleged  philosophical  errors, 
however,  the  active  and  passive  factors  seem  to  com¬ 
bine.  There  are  certain  intricacies  in  the  mental 
phenomenon  itself  favouring  the  chances  of  error,  and 
there  are  independent  predispositions  leading  the  mind 
to  look  at  the  phenomenon  in  a  wrong  way.  This 
seems  to  apply  to  the  famous  declaration  of  a  certain 
school  of  thinkers  that  by  an  act  of  introspection  we 
can  intuit  the  fact  of  liberty,  that  is  to  say,  a  power 
of  spontaneous  determination  of  action  superior  to  and 
regulative  of  the  influence  of  motives.  It  may  be 
plausibly  contended  that  this  idea  arises  partly  from 

1  So  far  as  any  mental  state,  though  originating  in  a  fusion  of 
elements,  is  now  unanalyzable  by  the  best  effort  of  attention,  we  must 
of  course  regard  it  in  its  present  form  as  simple.  This  distinction 
between  what  is  simple  or  complex  in  its  present  nature,  and  what  is 
originally  so,  is  sometimes  overlooked  by  psychologists.  Whether  the 
feelings  and  ideas  here  referred  to  are  now  simple  or  complex,  cannot, 
I  think,  yet  bo  very  certainly  determined.  To  take  the  idea  of  space, 
I  find  that  after  practice  I  recognize  the  ingredient  of  muscular 
feeling  much  better  than  I  did  at  first.  And  this  exactly  answers  to 
Helmholtz’s  contention  that  elementary  sensations  as  partial  tones 
can  bo  delected  after  practice.  Such  separate  recognition  may  bo 
said  to  depend  on  correct  representation.  On  tho  other  hand,  it  must 
be  allowed  that  there  is  room  for  tho  intuitionist  to  say  that  tho 
nssociationist  is  here  reading  something  into  the  idea  which  do  s  not 
belong  to  it.  It  is  to  be  added  that  the  illusion  which  the  associn- 
tionist  commonly  seeks  to  fasten  on  his  opponent  is  that  of  confusing 
final  with  original  simplicity.  Thus,  he  says  that,  though  the  idea  of 
space  may  now  to  all  intents  and  purposes  be  simple,  it  was  really 
built  up  out  of  many  distinct  elements.  More  will  be  said  on  tlie 
relation  of  questions  of  nature  and  genesis  further  on. 


208 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTKOSPECTION. 


a  mixing  up  of  facts  of  present  consciousness  with 
inferences  from  them,  and  partly  from  a  natural  predis¬ 
position  of  the  mind  to  invest  itself  with  this  supreme 
power  of  absolute  origination.1 

In  a  similar  way,  it  might  be  contended  that  other 
famous  philosophic  dicta  are  founded  on  a  process  of 
erroneous  introspection  of  subjective  mental  states.  In 
some  cases,  indeed,  it  seems  a  plausible  explanation  to 
regai  d  these  illusions  as  mere  survivals  in  attenuated 
shadowy  form  of  grosser  popular  illusions.  But  this 
is  not  yet  the  time  to  enter  on  these,  which,  moreover, 
hardly  fall  perhaps  under  our  definition  of  an  illusion 
of  introspection. 

Value  of  ike  Introspective  Method. 

In  drawing  up  this  rough  sketch  of  the  illusions  of 
introspection,  I  have  bad  no  practical  object  in  view. 
I  have  tried  to  look  at  the  facts  as  they  are  apart  from 
any  conclusions  to  be  drawn  from  them.  The  question 
how  far  the  liability  to  error  in  any  region  of  inquiry 
vitiates  the  whole  process  is  a  difficult  one ;  and  the 
question  whether  the  illusions  to  which  we  are  subject 
in  introspection  materially  affect  the  value  of  self- 
knowledge  as  a  whole  and  consequently  of  the  intro¬ 
spective  method  in  psychology,  as  many  affirm,  is  too 
subtle  a  one  to  be  fully  treated  now.  All  that  I  shall 
attempt  here  is  to  show  that  it  does  not  do  this  any 
more  than  the  risk  of  sense-illusion  can  be  said 
materially  to  affect  the  value  of  external  observation. 

1  I  may  as  well  be  frank  and  say  that  I  myself,  assuming  free-will 
to  be  an  illusion,  have  tried  to  trace  the  various  threads  of  influence 
which  have  contributed  to  its  remarkable  vitality.  (See  Sensation  and 
Intuition,  eh.  v.,  “  The  Genesis  of  the  Free-Will  Doctriue.”) 


IS  INTROSPECTION  VALUELESS  ? 


209 


It  is  to  be  noted  first  of  all  that  the  errors  of 
introspection  are  much  more  limited  than  those  of 
sense-perception.  They  broadly  answer  to  the  slight 
errors  connected  with  the  discrimination  and  recogni¬ 
tion  of  the  sense-impression.  There  is  nothing 
answering  to  a  complete  hallucination  in  the  sphere 
of  the  inner  mental  life.  It  follows,  too,  from  what  has 
been  said  above,  that  the  amount  of  active  error  in 
introspection  is  insignificant,  since  the  representation 
of  a  feeling  or  belief  is  so  very  similar  to  the  actual 
experience  of  it. 

In  brief,  the  errors  of  introspection,  though 
numerous,  are  all  too  slight  to  render  the  process  of 
introspection  as  a  whole  unsound  and  untrustworthy. 
Though,  as  we  have  seen,  it  involves,  strictly  speaking, 
an  ingredient  of  representation,  this  fact  does  not  do 
away  with  the  broad  distinction  between  presentative 
and  representative  cognition.  Introspection  is  pre¬ 
sentative  in  the  sense  that  the  reality  constituting  the 
object  of  cognition,  the  mind’s  present  feeling,  is  as 
directly  present  to  the  knowing  mind  as  anything  can 
be  conceived  to  be.  It  may  be  added  that  the  power 
of  introspection  is  a  comparatively  new  acquisition  of 
the  human  race,  and  that,  as  it  improves,  the  amount 
of  error  connected  with  its  operation  may  reasonably 
be  expected  to  become  infinitesimal. 

It  is  often  supposed  by  those  who  undervalue  the 
introspective  method  in  psychology  that  there  is  a 
special  difficulty  in  the  detection  of  error  in  intro¬ 
spection,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  object  of  inspection 
is  something  individual  and  private,  and  not  open  to 
common  scrutiny  as  the  object  of  external  perception. 


210 


ILLUSIONS  OF  INTROSPECTION. 


Yet,  while  allowing  a  certain  force  to  this  objection 
I  would  point  out,  first  of  all,  that  even  in  sense-percep¬ 
tion,  what  the  individual  mind  is  immediately  certain 
of  is  its  own  sensations.  The  relatively  perfect  cer¬ 
tainty  which  finally  attaches  to  the  presentative  side 
of  sense-perception  is  precisely  that  which  finally  at¬ 
taches  to  the  results  of  introspection. 

In  the  second  place,  it  may  be  said  that  the  con¬ 
trast  between  the  inner  and  the  outer  experience  is 
much  less  than  it  seems.  In  many  cases  our  emotions 
are  the  direct  result  of  a  common  external  cause,  and 
even  when  they  are  not  thus  attached  to  some  present 
external  circumstance,  we  are  able,  it  is  admitted,  by 
the  use  of  language,  roughly  to  compare  our  individual 
feelings.  And  such  comparison  is  continually  bring¬ 
ing  to  light  the  fact  that  there  is  a  continuity  in  our 
mental  structure,  that  our  highest  thoughts  and 
emotions  lead  us  back  to  our  common  sense-impres¬ 
sions,  and  that  consequently,  in  spite  of  all  individual 
differences  of  temperament  and  mental  organization, 
our  inner  experience  is  in  all  its  larger  features  a 
common  experience. 

I  may  add  that  this  supposition  of  the  common 
nature  of  our  internal  experience,  as  a  whole,  not  only 
underlies  the  science  of  psychology,  but  is  implied  in 
the  very  process  of  detecting  and  correcting  errors  of 
introspection.  I  do  not  mean  that  in  matters  of 
feeling  “  authority  ”  is  to  override  “  private  judgment.’’ 
Our  last  resort  with  respect  to  things  of  the  mind  is, 
as  I  have  said,  that  of  careful  self-inspection.  And 
the  progress  of  psychology  and  the  correction  of  illu¬ 
sion  proceed  by  means  of  an  ever-improving  exercise 


VALUE  OF  INTROSPECTIVE  METHOD. 


211 


of  the  introspective  faculty.  Yet  such  individual 
inspection  can  at  least  be  guided  by  the  results  of 
others’  similar  inspection,  and  should  be  so  guided  as 
soon  as  a  general  consensus  in  matters  of  internal  ex¬ 
perience  is  fairly  made  out.  In  point  of  fact,  the 
preceding  discussion  of  illusions  of  introspection  has 
plainly  rested  on  the  sufficiently  verified  assumption 
that  the  calmest  and  most  efficient  kind  of  introspec¬ 
tion,  in  bringing  to  light  what  is  permanent  as  com¬ 
pared  with  what  is  variable  in  the  individual  cognition, 
points  in  the  direction  of  a  common  body  of  intro¬ 
spected  fact. 


CHAPTER  IX 


OTHER  QUASI-PEESEN  TATI  YE  ILLUSIONS:  ERRORS  OF 
INSIGHT. 

Besides  the  perception  of  external  objects,  and  the 
inspection  of  our  internal  mental  states,  there  are  other 
forms  of  quasi-presentative  cognition  which  need  to 
be  touched  on  here,  inasmuch  as  they  are  sometimes 
erroneous  and  illusory. 

In  the  last  chapter  I  alluded  to  the  fact  that 
emotion  may  arise  as  the  immediate  accompaniment 
of  a  sense-impression.  AYhen  this  is  the  case  there 
is  a  disposition  to  read  into  the  external  object  a 
quality  answering  to  the  emotion,  just  as  there  is  a 
disposition  to  ascribe  to  objects  qualities  of  heat  and 
cold  answering  to  the  sensations  thus  called.  And 
such  a  reference  of  an  emotional  result  to  an  external 
exciting  cause  approximates  in  character  to  an  im¬ 
mediate  intuition.  The  cognition  of  the  quality  is 
instantaneous,  and  quite  free  from  any  admixture  of 
conscious  inference.  Accordingly,  we  have  to  inquire 
into  the  illusory  forms  of  such  intuition,  if  such 
there  be. 


EMOTIONAL  PERCEPTS. 


213 


^Esthetic  Intuition. 

Conspicuous  among  these  quasi-presentative  emo¬ 
tional  cognitions  is  aesthetic  intuition,  that  is  to  say, 
the  perception  of  an  object  as  beautiful.  It  is  not 
necessary  here  to  raise  the  question  whether  there  is, 
strictly  speaking,  any  quality  in  things  answering  to 
the  sentiment  of  beauty  in  our  minds  :  this  is  a  philo¬ 
sophical  and  not  a  psychological  question,  and  turns  on 
the  further  question,  what  we  mean  by  object.  All  that 
we  need  to  assume  here  is  that  there  are  certain  aspects 
of  external  things,  certain  relations  of  form,  together 
with  a  power  of  exciting  certain  pleasurable  ideas  in 
the  spectator’s  mind,  which  are  commonly  recognized 
as  the  cause  of  the  emotion  of  beauty,  and  indeed 
regarded  as  constituting  the  embodiments  of  the  ob¬ 
jective  quality,  beauty.  ^Esthetic  intuition  thus  clearly 
implies  the  immediate  assurance  of  the  existence  of  a 
common  source  of  aesthetic  delight,  a  source  bound  up 
with  an  object  of  common  sense-perception.  And  so 
we  may  say  that  to  call  a  thing  beautiful  is  more  or 
less  distinctly  to  recognize  it  as  a  cause  of  a  present 
emotion,  and  to  attribute  to  it  a  power  of  raising  a 
kindred  emotion  in  other  minds. 

TEsihetic  Illusion. 

According  to  this  view  of  the  matter,  an  illusion  of 
aesthetic  intuition  would  arise  whenever  this  power  of 
affecting  a  number  of  minds  pleasurably  is  wrongly 
attributed,  by  an  act  of  “  intuition,”  to  an  object  of 
sense-perception,  on  the  ground  of  a  present  personal 
feeling. 


214  OTHER  QUASI-PRESENTATIVE  ILLUSIONS. 


Now,  this  error  is  by  no  means  tmfrequent.  Our 
delight  in  viewing  external  things,  though  agreeing 
up  to  a  certain  point,  does  not  agree  throughout.  It 
is  a  tiite  remark  that  there  is  a  large  individual 
factor,  a  considerable  “  personal  equation,”  in  matters 
of  taste,  as  in  other  matters.  Permanent  differences  of 
natural  sensibility,  of  experience,  of  intellectual  habits, 
and  so  on,  make  an  object  aesthetically  impressive  and 
valuable  to  one  man  and  not  to  another.  Yet  these 
differences  tend  to  be  overlooked.  The  individual 
mind,  filled  with  delight  at  some  spectacle,  auto¬ 
matically  projects  its  feeling  outwards  in  the  shape  of 
a  cause  of  a  common  sentiment.  And  the  force  of 
this  impulse  cannot  be  altogether  explained  as  the 
effect  of  past  experiences  and  of  association.  It  seems 
to  involve,  in  addition,  the  play  of  social  instincts,  the 
impulse  of  the  individual  mind  to  connect  itself  in 
sympathy  with  the  collective  mind. 

Here,  as  in  the  other  varieties  of  illusion  already 
treated  of,  we  may  distinguish  between  a  passive  and 
an  active  side;  only  in  this  case  the  passive  side  must 
not  be  taken  as  corresponding  to  any  common  sug¬ 
gestions  of  the  object,  as  in  the  case  of  perception 
proper.  So  far  as  an  illusion  of  aesthetic  intuition  may 
be  considered  as  passive,  it  must  be  due  to  the  effect  of 
circumscribed  individual  associations  with  the  object. 

All  agree  that  what  is  called  beauty  consists,  to  a 
considerable  extent,  of  a  power  of  awaking  pleasant 
suggestions,  but  in  order  that  these  should  constitute 
a  ground  of  aesthetic  value,  they  must  be  common,  par¬ 
ticipated  in  by  all,  or  at  least  by  an  indefinite  number. 
This  will  be  the  case  when  the  association  rests  on  our 


SUBJECTIVE  AND  OBJECTIVE  BEAUTY.  215 


common  every-day  experiences,  and  our  common  know¬ 
ledge  of  tilings,  as  in  the  case  of  the  peaceful  beauty 
of  an  ascending  curl  of  blue  smoke  in  a  woody  land¬ 
scape,  or  the  awful  beauty  of  a  lofty  precipice.  Ou 
the  other  hand,  when  the  experience  and  recollections, 
which  are  the  source  of  the  pleasure,  are  restricted  and 
accidental,  any  attribution  of  objective  worth  is  illu¬ 
sory.  Tims,  the  ascription  of  beauty  to  one’s  native 
village,  to  one’s  beloved  friends,  and  so  on,  in  so  far  as 
it  carries  the  conviction  of  objective  worth,  may  imply 
a  confusion  of  the  individual  with  the  common  ex¬ 
perience. 

The  active  side  of  this  species  of  illusions  would  be 
illustrated  in  every  instance  of  ascribing  beauty  to 
objects  which  is  due,  in  a  considerable  measure  at 
least,  to  some  pre-existing  disjrosition  in  the  mind, 
whether  permanent  or  temporary.  A  man  brings  his 
peculiar  habits  of  thought  and  feeling  to  the  con¬ 
templation  of  objects,  and  the  aesthetic  impression 
produced  is  coloured  by  these  predispositions.  Thus, 
a  person  of  a  sad  and  gloomy  cast  of  mind  will  be 
deposed  to  see  a  sombre  beauty  where  other  eyes  see 
nothing  of  the  kind.  And  then  there  are  all  the 
effects  of  temporary  conditions  of  the  imagination  and 
the  feelings.  Thus,  the  individual  mind  may  be 
focussed  in  a  certain  way  through  the  suggestion  of 
another.  People  not  seldom  see  a  thing  to  be  beauti¬ 
ful  because  they  are  told  that  it  is  so.  It  might  not 
be  well  to  inquire  too  curiously  how  many  of  the 
frequenters  of  the  annual  art  exhibitions  use  their 
own  eyes  in  framing  their  aesthetic  judgments.  Or 
the  temporary  predisposition  may  reside  in  a  purely 


216  OTHER  QUASI-PRESENTATIVE  ILLUSIONS. 


personal  feeling  or  desire  uppermost  at  the  time.  Our 
enjoyment  of  nature  or  of  art  is  coloured  by  our 
temporary  mood.  There  are  moments  of  exceptional 
mental  exhilaration,  when  even  a  commonplace  scene 
will  excite  an  appreciable  kind  of  admiration.  Or 
there  may  be  a  strong  wish  to  find  a  thing  beautiful 
begotten  of  another  feeling.  Thus,  a  lover  desires  to 
find  beauty  in  his  mistress  ;  or,  having  found  it  in  her 
face  and  form,  desires  to  find  a  harmonious  beauty  in 
her  mind.  In  these  different  ways  temporary  acci¬ 
dents  of  personal  feeling  and  imagination  enter  into 
and  determine  our  aesthetic  intuition,  making  it  deviate 
from  the  common  standard.  This  kind  of  error  may 
even  approximate  in  character  to  an  hallucination  of 
sense  when  there  is  nothing  answering  to  a  common 
source  of  aesthetic  pleasure.  Thus,  the  fond  mother, 
through  the  very  force  of  her  affection,  will  construct 
a  beauty  in  her  child,  which  for  others  is  altogether 
non-existent. 

What  applies  to  the  perception  of  beauty  in  the 
narrow  sense  will  apply  to  all  other  modes  of  eesthetic 
intuition,  as  that  of  the  sublime  and  the  ludicrous,  and 
the  recognition  of  the  opposite  of  beauty  or  the  ugly. 
In  like  manner,  it  will  apply  to  moral  intuition  in  so 
far  as  it  is  an  instantaneous  recognition  of  a  certain 
quality  in  a  perceived  action  based  on,  or  at  least  con¬ 
joined  with,  a  particular  emotional  effect.  In  men’s 
intuitive  judgments  respecting  the  right  and  the  wrong, 
the  noble  and  base,  the  admirable  and  contemptible, 
and  so  on,  we  may  see  the  same  kind  of  illusory 
universalizing  of  personal  feeling  as  we  have  seen  in 
their  judgments  respecting  the  beautiful.  And  the 


KNOWLEDGE  OF  OTHERS’  FEELINGS.  217 


sources  of  the  error  are  the  same  in  the  two  cases. 
Accidents  of  experience,  giving  special  associations  to 
the  actions,  will  not  unfrequently  warp  the  individual 
intuition.  Ethical  culture,  like  cesthetic  culture,  means 
a  continual  casting  aside  of  early  illusory  habits  of 
intuition.  And  further,  moral  intuition  illustrates  all 
those  effects  of  feeling  which  we  have  briefly  traced  in 
the  case  of  aesthetic  intuition.  The  perversions  of  the 
moral  intuition  under  the  sway  of  prejudice  are  too 
familiar  to  need  more  than  a  bare  allusion. 


Nature  of  Insight. 

There  remains  one  further  mode  of  cognition  which 
approximates  in  character  to  presentative  knowledge, 
and  is  closely  related  to  external  perception.  I  refer 
to  the  commonly  called  “  intuitive  ”  process  by  which 
we  apprehend  the  feelings  and  thoughts  of  other  minds 
through  the  external  signs  of  movement,  vocal  sound, 
etc.,  which  make  up  expression  and  language.  This 
kind  of  knowledge,  which  is  not  sufficiently  marked  off 
from  external  perception  on  the  one  side  and  intro¬ 
spection  on  the  other,  I  venture  to  call  Insight. 

I  am  well  aware  that  this  interpretation  of  the 
mental  states  of  others  is  commonly  described  as  a 
process  of  inference  involving  a  conscious  reference  to 
our  own  similar  experiences.  I  willingly  grant  that  it 
is  often  so.  At  the  same  time,  it  must  be  perfectly 
plain  that  it  is  not  always  so.  It  is,  indeed,  doubtful 
whether  in  its  first  stages  in  early  life  it  is  invariably  so, 
for  there  seem  to  be  good  reasons  for  attributing  to  the 
infant  mind  a  certain  degree  of  instinctive  or  inherited 


218  OTHER  QUASI-PRESENTATIVE  ILLUSIONS. 


capability  in  making  out  the  looks  and  tones  of  others.^ 
And,  however  tliis  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  with  tho 
progress  of  life  a  good  part  of  this  interpretation  comes 
to  be  automatic  or  unconscious,  approximating  in 
character  to  a  sense-perception.  To  recognize  content¬ 
ment  in  a  placid  smile  is,  one  would  say,  hardly  less 
immediate  and  intuitive  than  to  recognize  the  coolness 
of  a  stream. 

We  must,  of  course,  all  allow  that  the  fusion  of 
the  presentative  and  the  representative  element  is, 
speaking  generally,  more  complete  in  the  case  of  sense- 
perception  than  in  that  here  considered.  In  spite  of 
Berkeley’s  masterly  account  of  the  rationale  of  visual 
perception  as  an  interpretation  of  “visual  language” 
and  all  that  has  confirmed  it,  the  plain  man  cannot,  at 
the  moment  of  looking  at  an  object,  easily  bring  him¬ 
self  to  admit  that  distance  is  not  directly  present  to  his 
vision.  On  the  other  hand,  on  cool  reflection,  he  will 
recognize  that  the  complacent  benevolent  sentiment  is 
distinct  from  the  particular  movements  and  changes  in 
the  eye  and  other  features  which  express  it.  Yet,  while 
admitting  this,  I  must  contend  that  there  is  no  very 
hard  and  fast  line  dividing  the  two  processes,  but  that 
the  reading  of  others’  feelings  approximates  in  charac¬ 
ter  to  an  act  of  perception. 

An  intuitive  insight  may,  then,  be  defined  as  that 
instantaneous,  automatic,  or  “  unconscious  ”  mode  of 

1  I  purposely  leave  aside  liere  the  philosophical  question,  whether 
the  knowledge  of  others’  feelings  is  intuitive  in  the  sense  of  being 
altogether  independent  of  experience,  and  the  manifestation  of  a 
fundamental  belief.  The  inherited  power  referred  to  in  tho  text 
might,  of  course,  be  viewed  as  a  transmitted  result  of  ancestral 
experience. 


INSIGHT  AND  PERCEPTION. 


219 


interpreting  another’s  feeling  which  occurs  whenever 
the  feeling  is  fully  expressed,  and  when  its  signs  are 
sufficiently  familiar  to  us.  This  definition  will  include 
the  interpretation  of  thoughts  by  means  of  language, 
though  not,  of  course,  the  belief  in  an  objective  fact 
grounded  on  a  recognition  of  another’s  belief.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  will  exclude  all  the  more  complex  inter¬ 
pretations  of  looks  and  words  which  imply  conscious 
comparison,  reflection,  and  reasoning.  Further,  it  will 
exclude  a  large  part  of  the  interpretation  of  actions  as 
motived,  since  this,  though  sometimes  approaching  the 
intuitive  form,  is  for  the  most  part  a  process  of  con¬ 
jectural  or  doubtful  inference,  and  wanting  in  the 
immediate  assurance  which  belongs  to  an  intuitive 
reading  of  a  present  emotion  or  thought. 

From  this  short  account  of  the  process  of  insight,  its 
relation  to  perception  and  introspection  becomes  pretty 
plain.  On  the  one  hand,  it  closely  resembles  sense- 
perception,  since  it  proceeds  by  the  interpretation  of  a 
sense-impression  by  means  of  a  representative  image. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  differs  from  sense-perception,  and 
is  more  closely  allied  to  introspection  in  the  fact  that, 
while  the  process  of  interpretation  in  the  former  case 
is  a  reconstruction  of  external  experiences,  in  the  latter 
case  it  is  a  reconstruction  of  internal  experiences.  To 
intuit  another’s  feeling  is  clearly  to  represent  to  our¬ 
selves  a  certain  kind  of  internal  experience  previously 
known,  in  its  elements  at  least,  by  introspection,  while 
these  represented  experiences  are  distinctly  referred  to 
another  personality. 

And  now  we  see  what  constitutes  the  object  of 
insight.  This  is,  in  part,  a  common  experience,  as  in 


220  OTHER  QUASI-PRESENTATIVE  ILLUSIONS. 


the  case  of  sense-perception  and  aesthetic  intuition, 
since  to  perceive  another’s  feeling  is  implicitly  to 
cognize  the  external  conditions  of  a  common  insight. 
But  this  is  clearly  not  the  whole,  nor  even  the  main 
part  of  objective  reality  in  this  act  of  cognition.  An 
intuitive  insight  differs  from  a  sense-perception  in  that 
it  involves  an  immediate  assurance  of  the  existence  of 
a  feeling  presentatively  known,  though  not  to  our  own 
minds.  The  object  in  insight  is  thus  a  presentative 
feeling  as  in  introspection,  though  not  our  own,  but 
another’s.  And  so  it  differs  from  the  object  in  sense- 
perception  in  so  far  as  this  last  involves  sense-experi¬ 
ences,  as  muscular  and  tactual  feelings,  which  are  not 
at  the  moment  presentatively  known  to  any  mind. 

Illusions  of  Insight . 

And  now  we  are  in  a  position,  perhaps,  to  define  an 
illusion  of  insight,  and  to  inquire  whether  there  is  any¬ 
thing  answering  to  our  definition.  An  illusory  insight 
is  a  quasi-intuition  of  another’s  feelings  which  does 
not  answer  to  the  internal  reality  as  presentatively 
known  to  the  subject  himself.  In  spite  of  the  errors 
of  introspection  dealt  with  in  the  last  chapter,  nobody 
will  doubt  that,  when  it  is  a  question  between  a  man’s 
knowing  what  is  at  the  moment  in  his  own  mind  and 
somebody  else’s  knowing,  logic,  as  well  as  politeness, 
requires  us  to  give  precedence  to  the  former. 

An  illusion  of  insight,  like  the  other  varieties  of 
illusion  already  dealt  with,  may  arise  either  by  way  of 
wrong  suggestion  cr  by  way  of  a  warping  preconception. 
Let  us  look  at  each  of  these  sources  apart. 

Our  insights,  like  our  perceptions,  though  intuitive 


FASSIVE  ILLUSIONS  OF  INSIGHT. 


221 


in  form,  are  obviously  determined  by  previous  ex¬ 
perience,  association,  and  habit.  Hence,  on  its  passive 
side,  an  illusion  of  insight  may  be  described  as  a  wrong 
interpretation  of  a  new  or  exceptional  case.  For 
example,  having  associated  the  representation  of  a 
slight  feeling  of  astonishment  with  uplifted  eyebrows, 
we  irresistibly  tend  to  see  a  face  in  which  this  is  a  con¬ 
stant  feature  as  expressing  this  particular  shade  of 
emotion.  In  this  way  we  sometimes  fall  into  grotesque 
errors  as  to  mental  traits.  And  the  most  practised 
physiognomist  may  not  unfrequently  err  by  importing 
the  results  of  his  special  circle  of  experiences  into  new 
and  unlike  cases. 

Much  the  same  thing  occurs  in  language.  Our 
timbre  of  voice,  our  articulation,  and  our  vocabulary, 
like  our  physiognomy,  have  about  them  something 
individual,  and  error  often  arises  from  overlooking  this, 
and  hastily  reading  common  interpretations  into 
exceptional  cases.  The  misunderstandings  that  arise 
even  among  the  most  open  and  confiding  friends 
sufficiently  illustrate  this  liability  to  error. 

Sometimes  the  error  becomes  more  palpable,  as,  for 
example,  when  we  visit  another  country.  A  foreign 
language,  when  heard,  provokingly  suggests  all  kinds 
of  absurd  meanings  through  analogies  to  our  familiar 
tongue.  Thus,  the  Englishman  who  visits  Germany 
cannot,  for  a  time,  hear  a  lady  use  the  expression, 
“  Mein  Mann,”  without  having  the  amusing  suggestion 
that  the  speaker  is  wishing  to  call  special  attention  to 
the  fact  of  her  husband’s  masculinity.  And  doubtless 
the  German  who  visits  us  derives  a  similar  kind  of 
amusement  from  such  involuntary  comparisons. 


222  OTHER  QUASI-PEESENTATIVE  ILLUSIONS. 


A  fertile  source  of  illusory  insight  is,  of  course, 
conscious  deception  on  the  part  of  others.  The  rules 
of  polite  society  require  us  to  be  hypocrites  in  a  small 
way,  and  we  have  occasionally  to  affect  the  signs  of 
amiability,  interest,  and  amusement,  when  our  actual 
sentiment  is  one  of  indifference,  weariness,  or  even 
positive  antipathy.  And  in  this  way  a  good  deal  of 
petty  illusion  arises.  Although  we  may  be  well 
aware  of  the  general  untrustworthiness  of  this  society 
behaviour,  such  is  the  force  of  association  and  habit, 
that  the  bland  tone  and  flattering  word  irresistibly 
excite  a  momentary  feeling  of  gratification,  an  effect 
which  is  made  all  the  more  easy  by  the  co-operation  of 
the  recipient’s  own  wishes,  touched  on  in  the  last 
chapter. 

Among  all  varieties  of  this  deception,  that  of  the 
stage  is  the  most  complete.  The  actor  is  a  man  who 
has  elaborately  trained  himself  in  the  simulation  of 
certain  feelings.  And  w-hen  his  acting  is  of  the  best 
quality,  and  the  proper  bodily  attitude,  gesture,  tone  of 
voice,  and  so  on,  are  hit  off,  the  force  of  the  illusion 
completely  masters  us.  For  the  moment  we  lose  sight  of 
the  theatrical  surroundings,  and  see  the  actor  as  really 
carried  away  by  the  passion  which  he  so  closely  imi¬ 
tates.  Histrionic  illusion  is  as  complete  as  any  artistic 
variety  can  venture  to  be.1 

I  have  said  that  our  insights  are  limited  by  our 
own  mental  experience,  and  so  by  introspection.  In 
truth,  every  interpretation  of  another’s  look  and  word 

1  I  here  assume,  along  with  G.  II.  Lewes  and  other  competent 
dramatic  critics,  that  the  actor  does  not  and  dares  not  feel  what  ho 
expresses,  at  least  not  in  the  perfectly  spontaneous  way,  and  in  the 
tame  measure  in  which  he  appears  to  feel  it. 


ACTIVE  ILLUSIONS  OF  INSIGHT. 


223 


is  determine!  ultimately,  not  by  what  we  have  pre¬ 
viously  observed  in  others,  but  by  what  we  have 
personally  felt,  or  at  least  have  in  a  sense  made  our 
own  by  intense  sympathy.  Hence  we  may,  in  general, 
regard  an  illusion  of  insight  on  the  active  side  as  a 
hasty  projection  of  or.r  own  feelings,  thoughts,  etc., 
into  other  minds. 

We  habitually  approach  others  with  a  predis¬ 
position  to  attribute  to  them  our  own  modes  of  think¬ 
ing  and  feeling.  And  this  predisposition  will  bo  the 
more  powerful,  the  more  desirous  we  are  for  sym¬ 
pathy,  and  for  that  eonflrmatiou  of  our  own  views 
which  the  reflection  of  another  mind  affords.  Thus, 
when  making  a  new  acquaintance,  people  are  in 
general  disposed  to  project  too  much  of  themselves 
into  the  person  who  is  the  object  cf  inspection.  They 
intuitively  endow  him  with  their  own  ideas,  ways  of 
looking  at  things,  prejudices  of  sentiment,  and  so  on, 
and  receive  something  like  a  shock  when  later  on 
they  find  out  how  different  he  is  from  this  first  hastily 
formed  and  largely  performed  image. 

The  same  thing  occurs  in  the  reading  of  literature, 
and  the  appreciation  of  the  arts  of  expression  generally. 
We  usually  approach  an  author  with  a  predisposition 
to  read  our  own  habits  of  thought  and  sentiment  into 
his  words.  It  is  probably  a  characteristic  defect  of  a 
good  deal  of  current  criticism  of  remote  writers  to 
attribute  to  them  too  much  of  our  modern  conceptions 
and  aims.  Similarly,  we  often  import  our  own  special 
feelings  into  the  utterances  of  the  poet  and  of  the 
musical  composer.  That  much  of  this  intuition  is 
illusory,  may  be  seen  by  a  little  attention  to  the  “  in- 


224  OTHER  QUASI-PRESENTATIVE  ILLUSIONS. 


tuitions  ”  of  different  critics.  Two  readers  of  unlike 
emotional  organization  will  find  incompatible  modes  of 
feeling  in  the  same  poet.  And  everybody  knows  bow 
common  it.  is  for  musical  critics  and  amateurs  to  dis¬ 
cover  quite  dissimilar  feelings  in  the  same  com¬ 
position.1 

The  effect  of  this  active  projection  of  personal 
feeling  will,  of  course,  be  seen  most  strikingly  when 
there  is  a  certain  variety  of  feeling  actually  excited  at 
the  time  in  the  observer’s  mind.  A  man  who  is  in 
a  particularly  happy  mood  tends  to  reflect  his 
exuberant  gladness  on  others.  The  lover,  in  the 
moment  of  exalted  emotion,  reads  a  response  to  all  his 
aspirations  in  his  mistress’s  eyes.  Again,  a  man  will 
tend  to  project  his  own  present  ideas  into  the  minds  of 
others,  and  so  imagine  that  they  know  what  he  knows ; 
and  this  sometimes  leads  to  a  comical  kind  of 
embarrassment,  and  even  to  a  betrayal  of  some¬ 
thing  which  it  was  the  interest  of  the  person  to  keep 
to  himself.  Once  more,  in  interpreting  language,  we 
may  sometimes  catch  ourselves  mistaking  the  mean¬ 
ing,  owing  to  the  presence  of  a  certain  idea  in  the 
mind  at  the  time.  Thus,  if  I  have  just  been  thinking 
of  Comte,  and  overhear  a  person  exclaim,  “  I’m  posi¬ 
tive,”  I  irresistibly  tend,  for  the  moment,  to  ascribe  to 
him  an  avowal  of  discipleship  to  the  great  positivist. 

Poetic  Illusion. 

The  most  remarkable  example  of  this  projection  of 

1  The  illusory  nature  of  much  of  this  emotional  interpretation  of 
music  has  been  ably  exposed  by  Mr.  Gurney.  (See  The  Power  of 
Sound,  p.  345,  et  seq.) 


PERSONIFICATION  OF  NATURE. 


225 


feeling  is  undoubtedly  illustrated  in  the  poetic  inter¬ 
pretation  of  inanimate  nature.  The  personification  of 
tree,  mountain,  ocean,  and  so  on,  illustrates,  no  doubt, 
the  effect  of  association  and  external  suggestion  ; 
for  there  are  limits  to  such  personification.  But 
resemblance  and  suggestion  commonly  bear,  in  this 
case,  but  a  small  proportion  to  active  constructive 
imagination.  One  might,  perhaps,  call  this  kind  of 
projection  the  hallucination  of  insight,  since  there  is 
nothing  objective  correspending  to  the  interpretative 
image. 

The  imaginative  and  poetic  mind  is  continually 
on  the  look  out  for  hints  of  life,  consciousness,  and 
emotion  in  nature.  It  finds  a  certain  kind  of  satis¬ 
faction  in  this  half-illusory,  dream-like  transformation 
of  nature.  The  deepest  ground  of  this  tendency 
must  probably  be  looked  for  in  the  primitive  ideas  of 
the  race,  and  the  transmission  by  inheritance  of  the 
effect  of  its  firmly  fixed  habits  of  mind.  The  un¬ 
disciplined  mind  of  early  man,  incapable  of  distin¬ 
guishing  the  object  of  perception  from  the  product  of 
spontaneous  imagination,  and  taking  his  own  double 
existence  as  the  type  of  all  existence,  actually  saw  the 
stream,  the  ocean,  and  the  mountain  as  living  beings ; 
and  so  firmly  rooted  is  this  way  of  regarding  objects, 
that  even  our  scientifically  trained  minds  find  it  a 
relief  to  relapse  occasionally  into  it.1 

While  there  is  this  general  imaginative  disposition 
iu  the  poetic  mind  to  endow  nature  with  life  and  con- 

1  The  reader  will  note  that  this  impulse  is  complementary  to  the 
other  impulse  to  view  all  mental  states  as  analogous  to  impressions 
produced  by  external  things,  on  which  I  touched  iu  the  last  chapter, 

11 


226  OTHER  QUASI-PRESENTATIVE  ILLUSIONS. 

sciousness,  there  are  special  tendencies  to  project  the 
individual  feelings  into  objects.  Every  imaginative 
mind  looks  for  reflections  of  its  own  deepest  feelings 
iu  the  world  about  it.  The  lonely  embittered  heart, 
craving  for  sympathy,  which  he  cannot  meet  w'ith  in 
his  fellow-man,  finds  traces  of  it  in  the  sighing  of  the 
trees  or  the  moaning  of  the  sad  sea-wave.  Our  Poet 
Laureate,  in  his  great  elegy,  has  abundantly  illustrated 
this  impulse  of  the  imagination  to  reflect  its  own 
emotional  colouring  on  to  inanimate  things :  for  ex¬ 
ample  in  the  lines — 

“  The  ■wild  unrest  that  lives  in  woe 
Would  dote  and  pore  on  yonder  cloud 
That  rises  upward  always  higher, 

And  onward  drags  a  labouring  breast, 

And  topples  round  the  dreary  west, 

A  looming  bastion  fringed  with  fire.” 

So  far  I  have  been  considering  active  illusions  of 
insight  as  arising  through  the  play  of  the  impulse  of 
the  individual  mind  to  project  its  feelings  outwards, 
or  to  see  their  reflections  in  external  things.  I  must 
now  add  that  active  illusion  may  be  due  to  causes 
similar  to  those  which  we  have  seen  to  operate  iu  the 
sphere  of  illusory  perception  and  introspection.  That 
is  to  say,  there  may  be  a  disposition,  permanent  or 
temporary,  to  ascribe  a  certain  kind  of  feeling  to  others 
in  accordance  with  our  wishes,  fears,  and  so  on. 

To  give  an  illustration  of  the  permanent  causes,  it 
is  well  known  that  a  conceited  man  will  be  disposed  to 
attribute  admiration  of  himself  to  others.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  shy,  timid  person  will  be  prone  to  read 
into  other  minds  the  opposite  kind  of  feeling. 


EXPECTATION  AND  INSIGHT. 


227 


Coming  to  temporary  forces,  we  find  that  any  ex¬ 
pectation  to  meet  with  a  particular  kind  of  mental 
trait  in  a  new  acquaintance  will  dispose  the  observer 
hastily  and  erroneously  to  attribute  corresponding  feel¬ 
ings  to  the  person.  And  if  this  expectation  springs 
out  of  a  present  feeling,  the  bias  to  illusory  insight  is 
still  more  powerful.  For  example,  a  child  that  fears 
its  parent’s  displeasure  will  be  prone  to  misinterpret 
the  parent’s  words  and  actions,  colouring  them  accord¬ 
ing  to  its  fears.  So  an  angry  man,  strongly  desirous  of 
making  out  that  a  person  has  injured  him,  will  be 
disposed  to  see  signs  of  conscious  guilt  in  this  person’s 
looks  or  words.  Similarly,  a  lover  will  read  fine 
thoughts  or  sentiments  into  the  mind  of  his  mistress 
under  the  influence  of  a  strong  wish  to  admire. 

And  what  applies  to  the  illusory  interpretation  of 
others’  feelings  applies  to  the  ascription  of  feelings  to 
inanimate  objects.  This  is  due  not  simply  to  the 
impulse  to  expand  one’s  conscious  existence  through 
far-reaching  resonances  of  sympathy,  but  also  to  a 
permanent  or  temporary  disposition  to  attribute  a  cer¬ 
tain  kind  of  feeling  to  an  object.  Thus,  the  poet  per¬ 
sonifies  nature  in  part  because  his  emotional  cravings 
prompt  him  to  construct  the  idea  of  something  that 
can  be  admired  or  worshipped.  Onee  more,  the  action 
of  a  momentary  feeling  when  actually  excited  is  seen 
in  the  “mechanical”  impulse  of  a  man  to  retaliate 
when  he  strikes  his  foot  against  an  object,  as  a  chair, 
which  clearly  involves  a  tendency  to  attribute  an  inten¬ 
tion  to  hurt  to  the  unoffending  body,  and  the  rationale 
of  which  odd  procedure  is  pretty  correctly  expressed 
in  the  popular  phrase  :  “It  relieves  the  feelings.” 


228  OTHER  QUASI-PRESENTATIVE  ILLUSIONS. 


It  is  worth  noting,  perhaps,  that  these  illusions  of 
insight,  like  those  of  perception,  may  involve  an  in¬ 
attention  to  the  actual  impression  of  the  moment. 
To  erroneously  attribute  a  feeling  to  another  through 
an  excess  of  sympathetic  eagerness  is  often  to  over¬ 
look  what  a  perfectly  dispassionate  observer  would  see, 
as,  for  example,  the  immobility  of  the  features  or  the 
signs  of  a  deliberate  effort  to  simulate.  This  inatten¬ 
tion  will,  it  is  obvious,  be  greatest  in  the  poetic  attri¬ 
bution  of  life  and  personality  to  natural  objects,  in  so 
far  as  this  approximates  to  a  complete  momentary 
illusion.  To  see  a  dark  overhanging  rock  as  a  grim 
sombre  human  presence,  is  for  the  moment  to  view  it 
under  this  aspect  only,  abstracting  from  its  many 
obvious  unlikenesses. 

In  the  same  manner,  a  tendency  to  read  a  particular 
meaning  into  a  word  may  lead  to  the  misapprehension 
of  the  word.  To  give  an  illustration  :  I  was  lately  read¬ 
ing  the  fifth  volume  of  G-.  H.  Lewes’s  Problems  of 
Life  and  Mind.  In  reading  the  first  sentence  of  one 
of  the  sections,  I  again  and  again  fell  into  the  error  of 
taking  “The  great  Lagrange,”  for  “The  great  Lan¬ 
guage.”  On  glancing  back  I  saw  that  the  section  was 
headed  “  On  Language,”  and  I  at  once  recognized  the 
cause  of  my  error  in  the  pre-existence  in  my  mind  of 
the  representative  image  of  the  word  “  language.” 

In  concluding  this  short  account  of  the  errors  of 
insight,  I  may  observe  that  their  range  is  obviously 
much  greater  than  that  of  the  previously  considered 
classes  of  presentative  illusion.  This  is,  indeed,  in¬ 
volved  in  what  has  been  said  about  the  nature  of  the 
process.  Insight,  as  we  have  seen,  though  here  classed 


RARITY  OF  ACCURATE  INSIGHT. 


229 


with  presentative  cognition,  occupies  a  kind  of  border¬ 
land  between  immediate  knowledge  or  intuition  and 
inference,  shading  off  from  the  one  to  the  other.  And 
in  the  very  nature  of  the  case  the  scope  for  error 
must  be  great.  Even  overlooking  human  reticence, 
and,  what  is  worse,  human  hypocrisy,  the  conditions  of 
an  accurate  reading  of  others’  minds  are  rarely  realized. 
If,  as  has  been  remarked  by  a  good  authority,  one 
rarely  meets,  even  among  intelligent  people,  with  a 
fairly  accurate  observer  of  external  things,  what  shall  be 
said  as  to  the  commonly  claimed  power  of  “intuitive 
insight  ”  into  other  people’s  thoughts  and  feelings,  as 
though  it  were  a  process  above  suspicion  ?  It  is  plain, 
indeed,  on  a  little  reflection,  that,  taking  into  account 
what  is  required  in  the  way  of  large  and  varied 
experience  (personal  and  social),  a  habit  of  careful  in¬ 
trospection,  as  well  as  a  habit  of  subtle  discriminative 
attention  to  the  external  signs  of  mental  life,  and  lastly, 
a  freedom  from  prepossession  and  bias,  only  a  very  few 
can  ever  hope  even  to  approximate  to  good  readers  of 
character. 

And  then  we  have  to  bear  in  mind  that  this  large 
amount  of  error  is  apt  to  remain  uncorrected.  There  is 
not,  as  in  the  case  of  external  perception,  an  easy  way 
of  verification,  by  calling  in  another  sense ;  a  mis¬ 
apprehension,  once  formed,  is  apt  to  remain,  and  I  need 
hardly  say  that  errors  in  these  matters  of  mutual  com¬ 
prehension  have  their  palpable  practical  consequences. 
All  social  cohesion  and  co-operation  rest  on  this  com¬ 
prehension,  and  are  limited  by  its  degree  of  perfection. 
Nay,  more,  all  common  knowledge  itself,  in  so  far  as  it 
depends  on  a  mutual  communication  of  impressions, 


230  OTHER  QUASI-PRESENT ATIYE  ILLUSIONS. 


ideas,  and  beliefs,  is  limited  by  the  fact  of  this  great 
liability  to  error  in  what  at  first  seems  to  be  one  of  the 
most  certain  kinds  of  knowledge. 

In  view  of  this  depressing  amount  of  error,  our 
solace  must  be  found  in  the  reflection  that  this  seem- 
ingly  perfect  instrument  of  intuitive  insight  is,  in 
reality,  like  that  of  introspection,  in  process  of  being 
fashioned.  Mutual  comprehension  has  only  become 
necessary  since  man  entered  the  social  state,  and  this, 
to  judge  by  the  evolutionist’s  measure  of  time,  is  not  so 
long  ago.  A  mental  structure  so  complex  and  delicate 
requires  for  its  development  a  proportionate  degree  of 
exercise,  and  it  is  not  reasonable  to  look  yet  for  perfect 
precision  of  action.  Nevertheless,  we  may  hope  that, 
with  the  advance  of  social  development,  the  faculty  is 
continually  gaining  in  precision  and  certainty.  And, 
indeed,  this  hope  is  already  assured  to  us  in  the  fact 
that  the  faculty  has  begun  to  criticise  itself,  to  dis¬ 
tinguish  between  an  erroneous  and  a  true  form  of 
its  operation.  In  fact,  all  that  has  been  here  said 
about  illusions  of  insight  has  involved  the  assumption 
that  intellectual  culture  sharpens  the  power  and  makes 
it  less  liable  to  err. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 

Thus  far  we  have  been  dealing  with  Preservative  Illu¬ 
sions,  that  is  to  say,  with  the  errors  incident  to  the 
process  of  what  may  roughly  be  called  presentative 
cognition.  We  have  now  to  pass  to  the  consideration 
of  Representative  Illusion,  or  that  kind  of  error  which 
attends  representative  cognition  in  so  far  as  it  is  im¬ 
mediate  or  self-sufficient,  and  not  consciously  based  on 
other  cognition.  Of  such  immediate  representative 
cognition,  memory  forms  the  most  conspicuous  and 
most  easily  recognized  variety.  Accordingly,  I  pro¬ 
ceed  to  take  up  the  subject  of  the  Illusions  of 
Memory.1 

The  mystery  of  memory  lies  in  the  apparent  im¬ 
mediateness  of  the  mind’s  contact  with  the  vanished 
past.  In  “looking  back  ”  on  our  life,  we  seem  to  our¬ 
selves  for  the  moment  to  rise  above  the  limitations  of 

1  Errors  of  memory  have  sometimes  been  called  “  fallacies,”  as,  for 
example,  by  Dr.  Carpenter  ( Human  Fhysiology,  ch.  x.).  While  pre¬ 
ferring  the  term  “  illusion,”  I  would  not  forget  to  acknowledge  my 
indebtedness  to  Dr.  Carpenter,  who  first  set  me  seriously  to  consider 
the  subject  of  mnemonic  error. 


232 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


time,  to  undo  its  work  of  extinction,  seizing  again  the 
realities  which  its  on-rushing  stream  had  borne  far 
from  us.  Memory  is  a  kind  of  resurrection  of  the 
buried  past :  as  we  fix  our  retrospective  glance  on  it, 
it  appears  to  start  anew  into  life ;  forms  arise  within 
aur  miuds  which,  we  feel  sure,  must  faithfully  represent 
the  things  that  were.  We  do  not  ask  for  any  proof  of 
the  fidelity  of  this  dramatic  representation  of  our  past 
history  by  memory.  It  is  seen  to  be  a  faithful  imita¬ 
tion,  just  because  it  is  felt  to  be  a  revival  of  the  past. 
To  seek  to  make  the  immediate  testimony  of  memory 
more  sure  seems  absurd,  since  all  our  ways  of  de¬ 
scribing  and  illustrating  this  mental  operation  assume 
that  in  the  very  act  of  performing  it  we  do  recover  a 
part  of  our  seemingly  “  dead  selves.” 

To  challenge  the  veracity  of  a  person’s  memory  is 
one  of  the  boldest  things  one  can  do  in  the  way  of 
attacking  deep-seated  conviction.  Memory  is  the 
peculiar  domain  of  the  individual.  In  going  back  in 
recollection  to  the  scenes  of  other  years  he  is  drawing 
on  the  secret  store-house  of  his  own  consciousness,  with 
which  a  stranger  must  not  intermeddle.  To  cast  doubt 
on  a  person’s  memory  is  commonly  resented  as  an  im¬ 
pertinence,  hardly  less  rude  than  to  question  his 
reading  of  his  own  present  mental  state.  Even  if  the 
challenger  professedly  bases  his  challenge  on  the 
testimony  of  his  own  memory,  the  challenged  party  is 
hardly  likely  to  allow  the  right  of  comparing  testi¬ 
monies.  He  can  in  most  cases  boldly  assert  that  those 
who  differ  from  him  are  lacking  in  Ms  power  of  recol¬ 
lection.  The  past,  in  becoming  the  past,  has,  for  most 
people,  ceased  to  be  a  common  object  of  reference ;  it 


IS  MEMORY  INFALLIBLE  ? 


233 


has  become  a  part  of  the  individual’s  own  inner  self, 
and  cannot  be  easily  dislodged  or  shaken. 

Yet,  although  people  in  general  are  naturally  dis¬ 
posed  to  be  very  confident  about  matters  of  recollec¬ 
tion,  reflective  persons  are  pretty  sure  to  find  out, 
sooner  or  later,  that  they  occasionally  fall  into  errors 
of  memory.  It  is  not  the  philosopher  who  first  hints 
at  the  mendacity  of  memory,  but  the  “  plain  man  ” 
who  takes  careful  note  of  what  really  happens  in  the 
world  of  his  personal  experience.  Thus,  we  bear 
persons,  quite  innocent  of  speculative  doubt,  qualifying 
an  assertion  made  on  personal  recollection  by  the  pro¬ 
viso,  “  unless  my  memory  has  played  me  false.”  And 
even  less  reflective  persons,  including  many  who  pride 
themselves  on  their  excellent  memory,  will,  when 
sorely  pressed,  make  a  grudging  admission  that  they 
may,  after  all,  be  in  error.  Perhaps  the  weakest  de¬ 
gree  of  such  an  admission,  and  one  which  allows  to  the 
conceding  party  a  semblance  of  victory,  is  illustrated 
in  the  “last  word  ”  of  one  who  has  boldly  maintained  a 
proposition  on  the  strength  of  individual  recollection, 
but  begins  to  recognize  the  instability  of  his  position : 
“I  either  witnessed  the  occurrence  or  dreamt  it.” 
This  is  sufficient  to  prove  that,  with  all  people’s 
boasting  about  the  infallibility  of  memory,  there  are 
many  who  have  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  some  of  its 
asseverations  will  not  bear  a  very  close  scrutiny. 


Psychology  of  Memory. 

In  order  to  understand  the  errors  of  memory,  we 
must  proceed,  as  in  the  case  of  illusions  of  perception, 


234 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BIEMiOEY. 


by  examining  a  little  into  the  nature  of  the  normal 
or  correct  process. 

An  act  of  recollection  is  said  by  tho  psychologist 
to  be  purely  representative  in  character,  whereas  per¬ 
ception  is  partly  representative,  partly  presentative. 
To  recall  an  object  to  the  mind  is  to  reconstruct  the 
percept  in  the  absence  of  a  sense-impression.1 

An  act  of  memory  is  obviously  distinguished  from 
one  of  simple  imagination  by  the  presence  of  a  con¬ 
scious  reference  to  the  past.  Every  recollection  is  an 
immediate  reapprehension  of  some  past  object  or 
event.  However  vague  this  reference  may  be,  it  must 
be  there  to  constitute  the  process  one  of  recollection. 

The  every-day  usages  of  language  do  not  at  first 
sight  seem  to  consistently  observe  this  distinction. 
When  a  boy  says,  “  I  remember  my  lesson,”  he  appears 
to  be  thinking  of  the  present  only,  and  not  referring  to 
the  past.  In  truth,  however,  there  is  a  vague  reference 
to  the  fact  of  retaining  a  piece  of  knowledge  through 
a  given  interval  of  time. 

Again,  when  a  man  says,  w  I  recollect  your  face,” 
this  means,  “  Your  face  seems  familiar  to  me.”  Here 
again,  though  there  is  no  definite  reference  to  the  past, 
there  is  a  vague  and  indefinite  one. 

It  is  plain  from  this  definition  that  recollection  is 
involved  in  all  recognition  or  identification.  Merely 
to  be  aware  that  1  have  seen  a  person  before  implies 
a  minimum  exercise  of  memory.  Yet  we  may  roughly 
distinguish  the  two  actions  of  perception  and  re¬ 
collection  in  the  process  of  recognition.  The  mere 

1  From  this  it  would  appear  to  follow  that,  so  far  as  a  percept  is 
representative,  recollection  must  be  re-representative 


DEFINITION  OF  MEMORY. 


235 


recognition  of  an  object  does  not  imply  the  presence 
of  a  distinct  representative  or  mnemonic  image.  In 
point  of  fact,  in  so  far  as  recognition  is  assimilation,  it 
cannot  be  said  to  imply  a  distinct  act  of  memory  at  all. 
It  is  only  when  similarity  is  perceived  amid  difference, 
only  when  the  accompaniments  or  surroundings  of  the 
object  as  previously  seen,  differencing  it  from  the  object 
as  now  seen,  are  brought  up  to  the  mind  that  we  may 
be  said  distinctly  to  recall  the  past.  And  our  state  of 
mind  in  recognizing  an  object  or  person  is  commonly 
an  alternation  between  these  two  acts  of  separating 
the  mnemonic  image  from  the  percept  and  so  recalling 
or  recollecting  the  past,  and  fusing  the  image  and  the 
percept  in  what  is  specifically  marked  off  as  recog¬ 
nition.1 

Although  I  have  spoken  of  memory  as  a  reinstate¬ 
ment  in  representative  form  of  external  experience,  the 
term  must  be  understood  to  include  every  revival  of  a 
past  experience,  whether  external  or  internal,  which  is 
recognized  as  a  revival.  In  a  general  way,  the  re¬ 
callings  of  our  internal  feelings  take  place  in  close 
connection  with  the  recollection  of  external  circum¬ 
stances  or  events,  and  so  they  may  be  regarded  as 
largely  conditioned  by  the  laws  of  this  second  kind  of 
reproduction. 

The  old  conceptions  of  mind,  which  regarded  every 
mental  phenomenon  as  a  manifestation  of  an  occult 
spiritual  substance,  naturally  led  to  the  supposition 
that  an  act  of  recollection  involves  the  continued,  un- 

1  The  relation  of  memory  to  recognition  is  very  well  discussed  by 
M.  Delboeuf,  in  connection  with  a  definition  of  memory  given  by 
Descartes.  (See  tho  article  “  Le  Sommeil  et  les  Reves,”  in  the  Bevue 
Fhilasophique,  April,  1S80,  p  428,  et  seq.) 


236 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


broken  existence  of  the  reproductive  or  mnemonic 
image  in  the  hidden  regions  of  the  mind.  To  recollect 
is,  according  to  this  view,  to  draw  the  image  out  of 
the  dark  vaults  of  unconscious  mind  into  the  upper 
chamber  of  illumined  consciousness. 

Modern  psychology  recognizes  no  such  pigeon¬ 
hole  apparatus  in  unconscious  mind.  On  the  purely 
psychical  side,  memory  is  nothing  but  an  occasional 
reappearance  of  a  past  mental  experience.  And  the 
sole  mental  conditions  of  this  reappearance  are  to  be 
found  in  the  circumstances  of  the  moment  of  the 
original  experience  and  in  those  of  the  moment  of 
the  reappearance. 

Among  these  are  to  be  specially  noted,  first  of  all, 
the  degree  of  impressiveness  of  the  original  experience, 
that  is  to  say,  the  amount  of  interest  it  awakened  and 
of  attention  it  excited.  The  more  impressive  any  ex¬ 
perience,  the  greater  the  chances  of  its  subsequent 
revival.  Moreover,  the  absence  of  impressiveness  in 
the  original  experience  may  be  made  good  either  by 
a  repetition  of  the  actual  experience  or,  in  the  case 
of  non-recurring  experiences,  by  the  fact  of  previous 
mnemonic  revivals. 

In  the  second  place,  the  pre-existing  mental  states 
at  the  time  of  revival  are  essential  conditions.  It  is 
now  known  that  every  recollection  is  determined  by 
some  link  of  association,  that  every  mnemonic  image 
presents  itself  in  consciousness  only  when  it  has  been 
preceded  by  some  other  mental  state,  presentative  or 
representative,  which  is  related  to  the  image.  This 
relation  may  be  one  of  contiguity,  that  is  to  say,  the 
original  experiences  may  have  occurred  at  the  same 


PSYCHOLOGY  OF  MEMORY. 


237 


lime  or  in  c’ose  succession  ;  or  one  of  similarity 
(partial  and  not  amounting  to  identity),  as  where  the 
sight  of  one  place  or  person  recalls  that  of  another 
place  or  person.  Finally,  it  is  to  be  observed  that 
recollection  is  often  an  act,  in  the  full  sense  of  that 
term,  involving  an  effort  of  voluntary  attention  at  the 
moment  of  revival. 

Modern  physiology  has  done  much  towards  helping 
us  to  understand  the  nervous  conditions  of  memory. 
The  biologist  regards  memory  as  a  special  phase  of 
a  universal  property  of  organic  structure,  namely, 
modifiability  by  the  exercise  of  function,  or  the  survival 
after  any  particular  kind  of  activity  of  a  disposition  to 
act  again  in  that  particular  way.  The  revival  of  a 
mental  impression  in  the  weaker  form  of  an  image  is 
thus,  on  its  physical  side,  due  in  part  to  this  remaining 
functional  disposition  in  the  central  nervous  tracts  con¬ 
cerned.  And  so,  while  on  the  psychical  or  subjective 
side  we  are  unable  to  find  anything  permanent  in 
memory,  on  the  physical  or  objective  side  we  do  find 
such  a  permanent  substratum. 

With  respect  to  the  special  conditions  of  mne¬ 
monic  revival  at  any  time,  physiology  is  less  explicit. 
In  a  general  way,  it  informs  us  that  such  a  rein¬ 
statement  of  the  past  is  determined  by  the  existence 
of  certain  connections  between  the  nervous  struc¬ 
tures  concerned  in  the  reviving  and  revived  mental 
elements.  Thus,  it  is  said  that  when  the  sound  of  a 
name  calls  up  in  the  mind  a  visual  image  of  a  per¬ 
son  seen  some  time  since,  it  is  because  connections 
have  been  formed  between  particular  regions  and 
modes  of  activity  of  the  auditory  and  the  visual  centres. 


238 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


And  it  is  supposed  that  the  existence  of  such  connections 
is  somehow  due  to  the  fact  that  the  two  regions  acted 
simultaneously  in  the  first  instance,  when  the  sight  of 
the  person  was  accompanied  by  the  hearing  of  his 
name.  In  other  words,  the  centres,  as  a  whole,  will  tend 
to  act  at  any  future  moment  in  the  same  complex  way 
in  which  they  have  acted  in  past  moments. 

All  this  is  valuable  hypothesis  so  far  as  it  goes, 
though  it  plainly  leaves  much  unaccounted  for.  As  to 
why  this  reinstatement  of  a  total  cerebral  pulsation  in 
consequence  of  the  re-excitation  of  a  portion  of  the 
same  should  be  accompanied  by  the  specific  mode  of 
consciousness  which  we  call  recollection  of  something 
past,  it  is  perhaps  unreasonable  to  ask  of  physiology 
any  sort  of  explanation.1 

Thus  far  as  to  the  general  or  essential  characteristics 
of  memory  on  its  mental  and  its  bodily  side.  But  what 
we  commonly  mean  by  memory  is,  on  its  psychical 
side  at  least,  much  more  than  this.  We  do  not  say 
that  we  properly  recollect  a  thing  unless  we  are  able 
to  refer  it  to  some  more  or  less  clearly  defined  region 
of  tl i e  past,  and  to  localize  it  in  the  succession  of  ex¬ 
periences  making  up  our  mental  image  of  the  past. 
In  other  words,  though  we  may  speak  of  an  imperfect 
kind  of  recollection  where  this  definite  reference  is 

1  A  very  interesting  account  of  the  most  recent  physiological 
theory  of  memory  is  to  be  found  in  a  series  of  articles,  bearing  the  title, 
“  La  Memoire  comme  fait  biologique,”  published  in  the  Revue  Fhilo- 
soplnqne,  from  the  pen  of  the  editor,  M.  Th.  Ribot.  (See  especially 
the  Rivue  of  May,  18S0,  pp.  516,  et  seq .)  M.  Ribot  speaks  of  the 
modification  of  particular  nerve-elements  as  “  the  static  base  ”  of 
memory,  and  of  the  formation  of  nerve-connections  by  means  of  which 
the  modified  element  may  be  re-excited  to  activity  as  “  the  dynamic  base 
of  memory  ”  (p.  535). 


MEMORY  AS  LOCALIZATION. 


239 


wanting,  we  mean  by  a  perfect  form  of  memory  some¬ 
thing  which  includes  this  reference. 

Without  entering  just  now  upon  a  full  analysis 
of  what  this  reference  to  a  particular  region  of  the 
past  means,  I  may  observe  that  it  takes  place  by  help 
of  an  habitual  retracing  of  the  past,  or  certain  portions 
of  it,  that  is  to  say,  a  regressive  movement  of  the 
imagination  along  the  lines  of  our  actual  experience. 
Setting  out  from  the  present  moment,  I  can  move 
regressively  to  the  preceding  state  of  consciousness,  to 
the  penultimate,  and  so  on.  The  fact  that  each  distinct 
mental  state  is  continuous  with  the  preceding  and  the 
succeeding,  and  in  a  certain  sense  overlaps  these,  makes 
any  portion  of  our  experience  essentially  a  succession 
of  states  of  consciousness,  involving  some  rudimentary 
id»  a  of  time.  And  thus,  whether  I  anticipate  a  future 
event  or  recall  a  past  one,  my  imagination,  setting  out 
from  the  present  moment,  constructs  a  sequence  of 
experiences  of  which  the  one  particularly  dwelt  on  is 
the  other  term  or  boundary.  And  our  idea  of  the 
position  of  this  last  in  time,  like  that  of  an  object  in 
space,  is  one  of  a  relation  to  our  present  position, 
and  is  determined  by  the  length  of  the  sequence  of 
experiences  thus  run  over  by  the  imagination.1  It 
may  be  added  that  since  the  imagination  can  much 
more  easily  follow  the  actual  order  of  experience  than 
conceive  it  as  reversed,  the  retrospective  act  of 
memory  naturally  tends  to  complete  itself  by  a  return 
movement  forwards  from  the  remembered  event  to  the 
present  moment. 

1  Wl.at  constitutes  the  difference  between  such  a  progressive  and  n 
retrogressive  movement  is  a  point  ti.at  will  be  considered  by-and-by. 


240 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


In  practice  this  detailed  retracing  of  successive 
moments  of  mental  life  is  confined  to  very  recent 
experiences.  If  I  try  to  localize  in  time  a  remote 
event,  I  am  content  with  placing  it  in  relation  to  a 
series  of  prominent  events  or  landmarks  which  serves 
me  as  a  rough  scheme  of  the  past.  The  formation 
of  such  a  mnemonic  framework  is  largely  due  to  the 
needs  of  social  converse,  which  proceeds  by  help  of  a 
common  standard  of  reference.  This  standard  is  sup¬ 
plied  by  those  objective,  that  is  to  say,  commonly  ex¬ 
perienced  regularities  of  succession  which  constitute 
the  natural  and  artificial  divisions  of  the  years,  seasons, 
months,  weeks,  etc.  The  habit  of  recurring  to  these 
fixed  divisional  points  of  the  past  renders  a  return 
of  imagination  to  any  one  of  them  more  and  more 
easy.  A  man  has  a  definite  idea  of  “  a  year  ago  ” 
which  the  child  wants,  just  because  he  has  had  so  fre¬ 
quently  to  execute  that  vague  regressive  movement 
by  which  the  idea  arises.  And  though,  as  our  actual 
point  in  time  moves  forward,  the  relative  position  of 
any  given  landmark  is  continually  changing,  the 
change  easily  adapts  itself  to  that  scheme  of  time- 
divisions  which  holds  good  for  any  present  point. 

Few  of  our  recollections  of  remote  events  involve 
a  definite  reference  to  this  system  of  landmarks. 
The  recollections  of  early  life  are,  in  the  case  of 
most  people,  so  far  as  they  depend  on  individual 
memory,  very  vaguely  and  imperfectly  localized.  And 
many  recent  experiences  which  are  said  to  be  half 
forgotten,  are  not  referred  to  any  clearly  assignable 
position  in  time.  One  may  say  that  in  average  cases 
definite  localization  characterizes  only  such  supremely 


IMPERFECT  MNEMONIC  LOCALIZATION. 


241 


interesting  personal  experiences  as  spontaneously  recur 
a^ain  and  again  to  the  mind.  For  the  rest  it  is  con- 
fined  to  thme  facts  and  events  of  general  interest  to 
which  our  social  habits  lead  us  repeatedly  to  go  back.1 

The  consciousness  of  personal  identity  is  said  to  be 
bound  up  with  memory.  That  is  to  say,  I  am  conscious 
of  a  continuous  permanent  self  under  all  the  varying 
surface-play  of  the  stream  of  consciousness,  just  because 
I  can,  by  an  act  of  recollection,  bring  together  any 
two  portions  of  this  stream  of  experience,  and  so 
recognize  the  unbroken  continuity  of  the  whole.  If 
this  is  so,  it  would  seem  to  follow  from  the  very  frag¬ 
mentary  character  of  our  recollections  that  our  sense 
of  identity  is  very  incomplete.  As  we  shall  see 
presently,  there  is  good  reason  to  look  upon  this 
consciousness  of  continuous  personal  existence  as  rest¬ 
ing  only  in  part  on  memory,  and  mainly  on  our  inde¬ 
pendently  formed  representation  of  what  has  happened 
in  the  numberless  and  often  huge  lacunae  of  the  past 
left  by  memory. 

Having  thus  a  rough  idea  of  the  mechanism  of 
memory  to  guide  us,  we  may  be  able  to  investigate 
the  illusions  incident  to  the  process. 

Illusions  of  Memory. 

By  an  illusion  of  memory  we  are  to  understand  a 
false  recollection  or  a  wrong  reference  of  an  idea  to 

1  It  is  not  easy  to  say  how  far  exceptional  conditions  may  serve  to 
reinstate  the  seemingly  forgotten  past.  Yet  the  experiences  of  dreamers 
and  of  those  who  have  been  recalled  to  consciousness  after  partial 
drowning,  whatever  they  may  prove  with  respect  to  the  revivability  of 
remote  experiences,  do  not  lead  us  to  imagine  that  the  range  of  our 
definitely  localizing  memory  is  a  wide  one. 


242 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


some  region  of  the  past.  It  might,  perhaps,  be  roughly 
described  as  a  wrong  interpretation  of  a  special  kind 
of  mental  image,  namely,  what  I  have  called  a 
mnemonic  image. 

Mnemonic  illusion  is  thus  distinct  from  mere  forget¬ 
fulness  or  imperfect  memory.  To  forget  or  be  doubt¬ 
ful  about  a  past  event  is  one  thing  ;  to  seem  to  ourselves 
to  remember  it  when  we  afterwards  find  that  the  fact 
was  otherwise  than  we  represented  it  in  the  apparent 
act  of  recollection  is  another  thing.  Indistinctness  of 
recollection,  or  the  decay  of  memory,  is,  as  we  shall 
soon  see,  an  important  co-operant  condition  of  mnemonic 
illusion,  but  does  not  constitute  it,  any  more  than 
haziness  of  vision  or  disease  of  the  visual  organ,  though 
highly  favourable  to  optical  illusion,  can  be  said  to 
constitute  it. 

We  may  conveniently  proceed  in  our  detailed 
examination  of  illusions  of  memory,  by  distinguishing 
between  three  facts  which  appear  to  be  involved  in 
every  complete  and  accurate  process  of  recollection. 
When  I  distinctly  recall  an  event,  I  am  immediately  sure 
of  three  things :  (1)  that  something  did  really  happen 
to  me ;  (2)  that  it  happened  in  the  way  I  now  think ; 
and  (3)  that  it  happened  when  it  appears  to  have 
happened.  I  cannot  be  said  to  recall  a  past  event 
unless  I  feel  sure  on  each  of  these  points.  Thus,  to  be 
able  to  say  that  an  event  happened  at  a  particular 
iate,  and  yet  unable  to  describe  how  it  happened, 
means  that  I  have  a  very  incomplete  recollection. 
The  same  is  true  when  I  can  recall  an  event  pretty 
distinctly,  but  fail  to  assign  it  its  proper  date.  This 
being  so,  it  follows  that  there  are  three  possible  open- 


ILLUSIONS  CLASSIFIED. 


243 


ings,  and  only  three,  by  which  errors  of  memory  may 
creep  in.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  each  of  these  open¬ 
ings  will  be  found  to  let  in  one  class  of  mnemonic 
illusion.  Thus  we  have  (1)  false  recollections,  to 
which  there  correspond  no  real  events  of  personal 
history ;  (2)  others  w'hich  misrepresent  the  manner  of 
happening  of  the  events;  and  (3)  others  which  falsify 
the  date  of  the  events  remembered. 

It  is  obvious,  from  a  mere  glance  at  this  three¬ 
fold  classification,  that  illusions  of  memory  closely 
correspond  to  visual  illusions.  Thus,  class  (1)  may  be 
likened  to  the  optical  illusions  known  as  subjective 
sensations  of  light,  or  ocular  spectra.  Here  we  can 
prove  that  there  is  nothing  actually  seen  in  the  field 
of  vision,  and  that  .the  semblance  of  a  visible  object 
arises  from  quite  another  source  than  that  of  ordinary 
external  light-stimulation,  and  by  what  may  be  called 
an  accident.  Similarly,  in  the  case  of  the  first  class  of 
mnemonic  illusions,  we  shall  find  that  there  is  nothing 
actually  recollected,  but  that  the  mnemonic  spectra  or 
phantoms  of  recollected  objects  can  be  accounted  for 
in  quite  another  way.  Such  illusions  come  nearest  to 
hallucinations  in  the  region  of  memory. 

Again,  class  (2)  has  its  visual  analogue  in  those 
optical  illusions  which  depend  on  effects  of  haziness  and 
of  the  action  of  refracting  media  interposed  between  the 
eye  and  the  object ;  in  which  cases,  though  there  is 
some  real  thing  corresponding  to  the  perception,  this 
is  seen  in  a  highly  defective,  distorted,  and  misleading 
form.  In  like  manner,  we  can  say  that  the  images  of 
memory  often  get  obscured,  distorted,  and  otherwise 
altered  when  they  have  receded  into  the  dim  distance, 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMOKY. 


244 


and  are  looked  back  upon  through,  a  long  space  of 
intervening  mental  experience.  Finally,  class  (3)  has 
its  visual  counterpart  in  erroneous  perceptions  of  dis¬ 
tance,  as  when,  for  example,  owing  to  the  dearness  of 
the  mountain  atmosphere  and  the  absence  of  inter¬ 
vening  objects,  the  side  of  the  Jungfrau  looks  to  the 
inexperienced  tourist  at  Wengernalp  hardly  further 
than  a  stone’s  throw.  It  will  be  found  that  when  our 
memory  falsifies  the  date  of  an  event,  the  error  arises 
much  in  the  same  way  as  a  visual  miscalculation  of 
distance. 

This  threefold  division  of  illusions  of  memory  is 
plainly  a  rather  superficial  one,  and  not  based  on  dis¬ 
tinctions  of  psychological  nature  or  origin.  In  order  to 
make  our  treatment  of  the  subject  scientific  as  well  as 
popular,  it  will  be  necessary  to  introduce  the  distinction 
between  the  passive  and  the  active  factor  under  each 
head.  It  will  be  found,  I  think,  without  forcing  the 
analogy  too  far,  that  here,  as  in  the  case  of  the  illusions 
of  perception  and  introspection,  error  is  attributable 
now  to  misleading  suggestion  on  the  part  of  the  mental 
content  of  the  moment,  now  to  a  process  of  incorpo¬ 
rating  into  this  content  a  mental  image  not  suggested 
by  it,  but  existing  independently. 

If  we  are  to  proceed  as  we  did  in  the  case  of  the 
illusions  of  sense,  and  take  up  the  lower  stages  of  error 
first  of  all,  we  shall  need  to  begin  with  the  third 
class  of  errors,  those  of  localization  in  time,  or  of  what 
may  be  called  mnemonic  perspective.  It  has  been 
already  observed  that  the  definite  localization  of  a 
mnemonic  image  is  only  an  occasional  accompaniment 
of  what  is  loosely  called  recollection.  Hence,  error  as 


ILLUSIONS  OF  TIME-PERSPECTIVE. 


245 


to  the  position  of  an  event  in  the  past  chain  of  events 
would  seem  to  involve  the  least  degree  of  violation 
of  the  confidence  which  we  are  wont  to  repose  in 
memory.  After  this,  we  may  proceed  to  the  discussion 
of  the  second  class,  which  I  may  call  distortions  of  the 
mnemonic  picture.  And,  finally,  we  may  deal  with 
the  most  signal  and  palpable  variety  of  error  of  memory, 
namely,  the  illusions  which  I  have  called  mnemonic 
spectra. 

Illusions  of  Perspective  :  A.  Definite  Localization. 

In  order  to  understand  these  errors  of  mnemonic 
perspective,  we  shall  have  to  inquire  more  closely  than 
we  have  yet  done  into  the  circumstances  which  cus¬ 
tomarily  determine  our  idea  of  the  degree  of  propin¬ 
quity  or  of  remoteness  of  a  past  event.  And  first  of 
all,  we  will  take  the  case  of  a  complete  act  of  recollec¬ 
tion  when  the  mind  is  able  to  travel  back  along  an 
uninterrupted  series  of  experiences  to  a  definitely 
apprehended  point.  Here  there  would  seem,  at  first 
sight,  to  be  no  room  for  error,  since  this  movement 
of  retrospective  imagination  may  be  said  to  involve 
a  direct  measurement  of  the  distance,  just  as  a  sweep 
of  the  eye  over  the  ground  between  a  spectator  and  an 
object  affords  a  direct  measurement  of  the  intervening 
space. 

Modern  science,  however,  tells  us  that  this  mode  of 
measurement  is  by  no  means  the  simple  and  accurate 
process  which  it  at  first  seems  to  be.  In  point  of  fact, 
there  is  something  like  a  constant  error  in  all  such 
retrospective  measurement.  Vierordt  has  proved  ex¬ 
perimentally,  by  making  a  person  try  to  reproduce  the 


21G 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


varying  time-intervals  between  the  strokes  of  the 
pendulum  of  a  metronome,  that  when  the  interval  is 
a  very  small  one,  we  uniformly  teud  to  exaggerate  it 
in  retrospection ;  when  a  large  one,  to  regard  it,  on 
the  contrary,  as  less  than  it  actually  was.1 

A  mere  act  of  reflection  will  convince  any  one  that 
when  he  tries  to  conceive  a  very  small  interval,  say  a 
quarter  of  a  second,  he  is  likely  to  make  it  too  great. 
On  the  other  hand,  when  we  try  to  conceive  a  year,  we 
do  not  fully  grasp  the  whole  extent  of  the  duration. 
This  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  merely  by  spending 
more  time  over  the  attempt,  and  so  recalling  a  larger 
number  of  the  details  of  the  period,  we  very  consider¬ 
ably  enlarge  our  first  estimate  of  the  duration.  And 
this  leads  to  great  discrepancies  in  the  appreciation  of 
the  relative  magnitudes  of  past  sections  of  time.  Thus, 
as  Wundt  observes,  though  in  retrospect  both  a  month 
and  a  year  seem  too  short,  the  latter  is  relatively  much 
more  shortened  than  the  former.2 

The  cause  of  this  constant  error  in  the  mode  of 
reproducing  durations  seems  to  be  connected  with  the 
very  nature  of  the  reproductive  act.  It  must  be  borne 
in  mind  that  this  act  is  itself,  like  the  experience  which 
it  represents,  a  mental  process,  occupying  time,  and  that 
consequently  it  may  very  possibly  reflect  its  time- 
character  on  the  resulting  judgment.  Thus,  since  it 
certainly  takes  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  second  to  pass 
in  imagination  from  one  impression  to  another,  it  may 
be  that  we  tend  to  confound  this  duration  with  that 
which  we  try  to  represent.  Similarly,  the  fact  that 

1  Der  Zeitsinn  nacli  Versuchen,  p.  36,  et  seq. 

s  Thydologische  Psychologie,  p.  782. 


M ISREPRKSENTATION  OF  FAST  TIME. 


247 


in  the  act  of  reproductive  imagination  we  under-esti¬ 
mate  a  longer  interval  between  two  impressions,  say 
those  of  the  slow  beats  of  a  colliery  engine,  may  be 
accounted  for  by  the  supposition  that  the  imagination 
tends  to  pass  from  the  one  impression  to  the  succeed¬ 
ing  one  too  rapidly.1 

The  gross  misappreciation  of  duration  of  long 
periods  of  time,  while  it  may  illustrate  the  principle 
just  touched  on,  clearly  involves  the  effect  of  other 
and  more  powerful  influences.  A  mere  glance  at  what 
is  in  our  mind  when  we  recall  such  a  period  as  a 
month  or  a  year,  shows  that  there  is  no  clear  concrete 
representation  at  all.  Time,  it  has  been  often  said,  is 
known  only  so  far  as  filled  with  concrete  contents  or 
conscious  experiences,  and  a  perfect  imagination  of  any 
particular  period  of  past  time  would  involve  a  re¬ 
tracing  of  all  the  successive  experiences  which  have 
gone  to  make  up  this  section  of  our  life.  This,  I  need 
not  say,  never  happens,  both  because,  on  the  one  hand, 
memory  does  not  allow  of  a  complete  reproduction  of 
any  segment  of  our  experience,  and  because,  on  the 
other  hand,  such  an  imaginative  reproduction,  even  if 
possible,  would  clearly  occupy  as  much  time  as  the 
experience  itself.2 

1  Wundt  refers  these  errors  to  variations  in  the  state  of  pre-adjust¬ 
ment  of  the  attention  to  impressions  and  representations,  according 
as  they  succeed  one  another  slowly  or  rapidly.  There  is  little  doubt 
that  the  edicts  of  the  state  of  tension  of  the  apparatus  of  attention  are 
involved  here,  though  I  am  disposed  to  think  that  Wundt  makes  too 
much  of  this  circumstance.  (See  Ph ysiologische  Pnychulogie,  pp.  782, 
783.  I  havo  given  a  fuller  account  of  Wundt’s  theory  in  Mind,  No.  i.) 

2  Strictly  speaking,  it  would  occupy  more  time,  since  the  effort 
of  recalling  each  successive  link  in  the  chain  would  involve  a  greater 
interval  between  any  two  images  than  that  between  the  corresponding 
experiences. 


248 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


When  I  call  np  an  image  of  the  year  just  closing, 
what  really  happens  is  a  rapid  movement  of  imagination 
over  a  series  of  prominent  events,  among  which  the 
succession  of  seasons  probably  occupies  the  foremost 
place,  serving,  as  I  have  remarked,  as  a  framework  for 
my  retrospective  picture.  Each  of  the  events  which  I 
thus  run  over  is  really  a  long  succession  of  shorter 
<  xperiences,  which,  however,  I  do  not  separately  repre¬ 
sent  to  myself.  My  imaginative  reproduction  of  such 
a  period  is  thus  essentially  a  greatly  abbreviated  and 
symbolic  mode  of  representation.  It  by  no  means 
corresponds  to  the  visual  imagination  of  a  large  mag¬ 
nitude,  say  that  of  the  length  of  sea  horizon  visible  at 
any  one  moment,  which  is  complete  in  an  instant,  and 
quite  independent  of  a  successive  imagination  of  its 
parts  or  details.  It  is  essentially  a  very  fragmentary 
and  defective  numerical  idea,  in  which,  moreover,  the 
real  quantitative  value  of  the  units  is  altogether  lost 
sight  of. 

Now,  it  seems  to  follow’  from  this  that  there  is 
something  illusory  in  all  our  recallings  of  long  periods 
of  the  past.  It  is  by  no  means  strictly  correct  to  say 
that  memory  ever  reinstates  the  past.  It  is  more  true 
to  say  that  we  see  the  past  in  retrospect  as  greatly 
foreshortened.  Yet  even  this  is  hardly  an  accurate 
account  of  w'hat  takes  place,  since,  when  we  look  at  an 
object  foreshortened  in  perspective,  we  see  enough  to 
enable  us  imaginatively  to  reconstruct  the  actual  size 
of  the  object,  whereas  in  the  case  of  time-perspective 
no  such  reconstruction  is  even  indirectly  possible. 

It  is  to  be  added  that  this  constant  error  in  time- 
reproduction  is  greater  in  the  case  of  remote  periods 


ABSOLUTE  AND  RELATIVE  DURATION. 


249 


than  of  near  ones  of  the  same  length.  Thus,  the  retro¬ 
spective  estimate  of  a  duration  far  removed  from  the 
present,  say  the  length  of  time  passed  at  a  particular 
school,  is  much  more  superficial  and  fragmentary  than 
that  of  a  recent  corresponding  period.  So  that  the 
time- vista  of  the  past  is  seen  to  answer  pretty  closely 
to  a  visible  perspective  in  which  the  amount  of  ap¬ 
parent  error  due  to  foreshortening  increases  with  the 
distance. 

In  practice,  however,  this  defect  in  the  imagina¬ 
tion  of  duration  leads  to  no  error.  Although,  as  a 
concrete  image  answering  to  some  definite  succession 
of  experiences  a  year  is  a  gross  misrepresentation,  as  a 
general  concept  implying  a  collection  of  a  certain 
number  of  similar  successions  of  experience  it  is  suffi¬ 
ciently  exact.  That  is  to  say,  though  we  cannot 
imagine  the  absolute  duration  of  any  such  cycle  of 
experience,  we  can,  by  the  simple  device  of  conceiving 
certain  durations  as  multiples  of  others,  perfectly  well 
compare  different  periods  of  times,  and  so  appreciate 
their  relative  magnitudes. 

Leaving,  then,  this  constant  error  in  time-appre¬ 
ciation,  we  will  pass  to  the  variable  and  more  palpable 
errors  in  the  retrospective  measurement  of  time.  Each 
person’s  experience  will  have  told  him  that  in  esti¬ 
mating  the  distance  of  a  past  event  by  a  mere  retro¬ 
spective  sense  of  duration,  he  is  liable  to  extraordinary 
fluctuations  of  judgment.  Sometimes  when  the  clock 
strikes  we  are  surprised  at  the  rapidity  of  the  hour. 
At  other  times  the  timepiece  seems  rather  to  have 
lagged  behind  its  usual  pace.  And  what  is  true  of  a 
short  interval  is  still  more  true  of  longer  intervals,  as 


250 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


months  and  years.  The  understanding  of  these  fluc¬ 
tuations  will  he  promoted  by  our  brief  glance  at  the 
constant  errors  in  retrospective  time-appreciation. 

And  here  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  between  the 
sense  of  duration  which  we  have  during  any  period, 
and  the  retrospective  sense  which  survives  the  period, 
for  these  do  not  necessarily  agree.  The  former  rests 
mainly  on  our  prospective  sense  of  time,  whereas  the 
latter  must  be  altogether  retrospective.1 

Our  estimate  of  time  as  it  passes  is  commonly  said 
to  depend  on  the  amount  of  consciousness  which  we 
are  giving  to  the  fact  of  its  transition.  Thus,  when 
the  mind  is  unoccupied  and  suffering  from  ennui,  we 
feel  time  to  move  sluggishly.  On  the  other  hand, 
interesting  employment,  by  diverting  the  thoughts  from 
time,  makes  it  appear  to  move  at  a  more  rapid  pace. 
This  fact  is  shown  in  the  common  expressions  which 
we  employ,  such  as  “  to  kill  time,”  and  the  German 
Langweile.  Similarly,  it  is  said  that  when  we  are 
eagerly  anticipating  an  event,  as  the  arrival  of  a  friend, 
the  mere  fact  of  dwelling  on  the  interval  makes  it 
appear  to  swell  out.2 

This  view  is  correct  in  the  main,  and  is  seen,  indeed, 
to  follow  from  the  great  psychological  principle  that 
what  we  attend  to  exists  for  us  more,  has  more  realitv, 
and  so  naturally  seems  greater  than  what  we  do  not 

1  I  need  hardly  say  that  there  is  no  sharp  distinction  between  these 
two  modes  of  subjective  appreciation.  Our  estimate  of  an  interval  as 
it  passes  is  really  made  up  of  a  number  of  renewed  anticipations  and 
recollections  of  the  successive  expeiiences.  Yet  we  can  say  broadly 
that  this  is  a  prospective  estimate,  while  that  which  is  formed  when 
the  period  has  quite  expired  must  be  altogelher  retrospective. 

2  See  an  interesting  paper  on  “  Consciousness  oi  Time,”  by  Mr.  G 
J.  Eomanes,  in  Mind  (July,  1878). 


ESTIMATE  OF  DURATION  AT  THE  TIME.  251 


attend  to.  At  the  same  time,  this  principle  must  be 
supplemented  by  another  consideration.  Suppose  that 
I  am  very  desirous  that  time  should  not  pass  quickly. 
If,  for  example,  I  am  enjoying  myself  or  indulging  in 
idleness,  and  know  that  I  have  to  be  off  to  keep  a  not 
very  agreeable  engagement  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
time  will  seem  to  pass  too  rapidly ;  and  this  not  be¬ 
cause  my  thoughts  are  diverted  from  the  fact  of  its 
transition,  for,  on  the  contrary,  they  are  reverting  to  it 
more  than  they  usually  do,  but  because  my  wish  to 
lengthen  the  interval  leads  me  to  represent  the  un¬ 
welcome  moment  as  further  off  than  it  actually  is,  in 
other  words,  to  construct  an  ideal  representation  of 
the  period  in  contrast  with  which  the  real  duration 
looks  miserably  short. 

Our  estimate  of  duration,  when  it  is  over,  depends 
less  on  this  circumstance  of  having  attended  to  its 
transition  than  on  other  considerations.  Wundt,  in¬ 
deed,  seems  to  think  that  the  feeling  accompanying 
the  actual  flow  of  time  has  no  effect  on  the  surviving 
subjective  appreciation ;  but  this  must  surely  be  an 
error,  since  our  mental  image  of  any  period  is  deter- 
termined  by  the  character  of  its  contents.  Wundt 
says  that  when  once  a  tedious  waiting  is  over,  it  looks 
short  because  we  instantly  forget  the  feeling  of  tedium. 
My  self-observation,  as  well  as  the  interrogation  of 
others,  has  satisfied  me,  on  the  contrary,  that  this 
feeling  distinctly  colours  the  retrospective  apprecia¬ 
tion.  Thus,  when  waiting  at  a  railway  station  for  a  be¬ 
lated  train,  I  am  distim  tly  aware  that  each  quarter  of 
an  hour  looks  long,  not  only  as  it  passes,  but  when  it 
is  over.  In  fact,  I  am  disposed  to  express  my  feeling 


252 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY 


as  one  of  disappointment  that  only  so  short  an  interval 
has  passed  since  I  last  looked  at  my  watch. 

Nevertheless,  I  am  ready  to  allow  that,  though  a 
feeling  of  tedium,  or  the  contrary  feeling  of  irritation 
at  the  rapidity  of  time,  will  linger  for  an  appreciable 
interval  and  colour  the  retrospective  estimate  of  time, 
this  backward  view  is  chiefly  determined  by  other  con¬ 
siderations.  As  Wundt  remarks,  we  have  no  sense  of 
time’s  slowness  during  sleep,  yet  on  waking  we  imagine 
that  we  have  been  dreaming  for  an  immensely  long 
period.  This  retrospective  appreciation  is  determined 
by  the  number  and  the  degree  or  intensity  of  the 
experiences,  and,  what  comes  very  much  to  the  same 
thing,  by  the  amount  of  unlikeness,  freshness,  and  dis¬ 
continuity  characterizing  these  experiences. 

Time,  as  I  have  already  hinted,  is  known  under  the 
form  of  a  succession  of  different  conscious  experiences. 
Unbroken  uniformity  would  give  us  no  sense  of  time, 
because  it  would  give  us  no  conscious  experience  at 
all.  Strictly  speaking,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
perfectly  uniform  mental  state  extending  through  an 
appreciable  duration.  In  looking  at  one  and  the  same 
object,  even  in  listening  to  one  and  the  same  tone,  I 
am  in  no  two  successive  fractions  of  a  second  in  exactly 
the  same  state  of  mind.  Slight  alterations  in  the 
strength  of  the  sensation,1  in  the  degree  or  direction  of 
attention,  and  in  the  composition  of  that  penumbra 
of  vague  images  which  it  calls  up,  occur  at  every  dis¬ 
tinguishable  fraction  of  time. 

1  It  is  well  known  that  there  is,  from  the  first,  a  gradual  falling 
off  in  the  strength  of  a  sensation  of  light  when  a  moderately  bright 
object  is  looked  at. 


ESTIMATE  OF  DURATION  AFTERWARDS.  253 


This  being  so,  it  would  seem  to  follow  that  the 
greater  the  number  of  clearly  marked  changes,  and 
the  more  impressive  and  exciting  these  transitions,  the 
fuller  will  be  our  sense  of  time.  And  this  is  borne 
out  by  individual  reflection.  When  striking  and  deeply 
interesting  events  follow  one  another  very  rapidly,  as 
when  we  are  travelling,  duration  appears  to  swell 
out. 

It  is  possible  that  such  a  succession  of  stirring  ex¬ 
periences  may  beget  a  vague  consciousness  of  time  at 
each  successive  moment,  and  apart  from  retrospection, 
simply  by  force  of  the  change.  In  other  words,  without 
our  distinctly  attending  to  time,  a  series  of  novel  im¬ 
pressions  might,  by  giving  us  the  consciousness  of 
change,  make  us  dimly  aware  of  the  numerical  richness 
of  our  experiences.  But,  however  this  be,  there  is  no 
doubt  that,  in  glancing  back  on  such  a  succession  of 
exciting  transitions  of  mental  condition,  time  appears 
to  expand  enormously,  just  as  it  does  in  looking  back 
on  our  dream-experience,  or  that  rapid  series  of  in¬ 
tensified  feelings  which,  according  to  De  Quincey  and 
others,  is  produced  by  certain  narcotics. 

The  reason  of  this  is  plain.  Such  a  type  of  succes¬ 
sive  experience  offers  to  the  retrospective  imagination 
a  large  number  of  distinguishable  points,  and  since  this 
mode  of  estimating  time  depends,  as  we  have  seen,  on 
the  extent  of  the  process  of  filling  in,  time  will  neces¬ 
sarily  appear  long  in  this  case.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  we  have  been  engaged  in  very  ordinary  pursuits, 
in  which  few  deeply  interesting  or  exciting  events 
have  impressed  themselves  on  memory,  our  retrospec¬ 
tive  picture  will  necessarily  be  very  much  of  a  blank. 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


-54 


and  consequently  the  duration  of  the  period  will  seem 
to  be  short. 

I  observed  that  this  retrospective  appreciation  of 
time  depended  on  the  degree  of  connection  between 
the  successive  experiences.  This  condition  is  very 
much  the  same  as  the  other  just  given,  namely,  the 
degree  of  uniformity  of  the  experiences,  since  the  more 
closely  the  successive  stages  of  the  experience  are 
connected — as  when,  for  example,  we  are  going  through 
our  daily  routine  of  work — the  more  quiet  and  un¬ 
exciting  will  be  the  transition  from  each  stage  to  its 
succeeding  one.  And  on  the  other  hand,  all  novelty  of 
impression  and  exciting  transition  of  experience  clearly 
involves  a  want  of  connection.  Wundt  thinks  the 
retrospective  estimate  of  a  connected  series  of  expe¬ 
riences,  such  as  those  of  our  daily  round  of  occupa¬ 
tions,  is  defective  just  because  the  effort  of  attention, 
which  precedes  even  an  imaginative  reproduction  of 
an  impression,  so  quickly  accommodates  itself  in  this 
case  to  each  of  the  successive  steps,  whereas,  when  the 
experiences  to  be  recalled  are  disconnected,  the  effort 
requires  more  time.  In  this  way,  the  estimate  of  a 
past  duration  would  be  coloured  by  the  sense  of  time 
accompanying  the  reproductive  process  itself.  This 
may  very  likely  be  the  case,  yet  I  should  be  disposed 
to  attach  most  importance  to  the  number  of  distin¬ 
guishable  items  of  experience  recalled. 

Our  representation  of  the  position  of  a  given  event 
in  the  past  is,  as  I  have  tried  to  show,  determined  by 
the  movement  of  imagination  in  going  back  to  it  from 
the  present.  And  this  is  the  same  thing  as  to  say 
that  it  depends  on  our  retrospective  sense  of  the  inter- 


VARIATIONS  IN  TIME-ESTIMATE. 


255 


vening  space.  That  is  to  say,  the  sense  of  distance  in 
time,  as  in  space,  is  the  recognition  of  a  term  to  a 
movement.  And  just  as  the  distance  of  an  object  will 
seem  greater  when  there  are  many  intervening  objects 
affording  points  of  measurement,  than  when  there  are 
none  (as  on  the  uniform  surface  of  the  sea),  so  the 
distance  of  an  event  will  vary  with  the  number  of 
recognized  intervening  points. 

The  appreciation  of  the  distance  of  an  event  in  time 
does  not,  however,  wholly  depend  on  the  character  of 
this  movement  of  imagination.  Just  as  the  apparent 
distance  of  a  visible  object  depends  inter  alia  on  the 
distinctness  of  the  retinal  impression,  so  the  apparent 
temporal  remoteness  of  a  past  event  depends  in  part 
on  the  degree  of  intensity  and  clearness  of  the  mne¬ 
monic  image.  This  is  seen  even  in  the  case  of  those 
images  which  we  are  able  distinctly  to  localize  in  the 
time-perspective.  For  a  series  of  exciting  experiences 
intervening  between  the  present  and  a  past  event  ap¬ 
pears  not  only  directly  to  add  to  our  sense  of  distance  by 
constituting  an  apparently  long  interval,  but  indirectly 
to  add  to  it  by  giving  an  unusual  degree  of  faintness 
to  the  recalled  image.  An  event  preceding  some  un¬ 
usually  stirring  series  of  experiences  gets  thrust  out 
of  consciousness  by  the  very  engrossing  nature  of  the 
new  experiences,  and  so  tends  to  grow  more  faint  and 
ghost-like  than  it  would  otherwise  have  done. 

The  full  force  of  this  circumstance  is  best  seen  in 
the  fact  that  a  very  recent  eveut,  bringing  with  it  a 
deep  mental  shock  and  a  rapid  stirring  of  wide  tracts  of 
feeling  and  thought,  may  get  to  look  old  in  a  marvel¬ 
lously  short  space  of  time.  An  announcement  of  the 


256 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


loss  of  a  dear  friend,  wlien  sudden  and  deeply  agitating, 
will  seem  remote  even  after  an  hour  of  such  intense 
emotional  experience.  And  the  same  twofold  con¬ 
sideration  probably  explains  the  well-known  fact  that 
a  year  seems  much  shorter  to  the  adult  than  to  the 
child.  The  novel  and  comparatively  exciting  im¬ 
pressions  of  childhood  tend  to  fill  out  time  in  retro-1 
spect,  and  also  to  throw  back  remote  events  into  a 
dimly  discernible  region. 

Now,  this  same  circumstance,  the  degree  of  vivid¬ 
ness  or  of  faintness  of  the  mnemonic  image,  is  that 
which  determines  our  idea  of  distance  when  the 
character  of  the  intervening  experiences  produces  no 
appreciable  effect.1  This  is  most  strikingly  illus¬ 
trated  in  those  imperfect  kinds  of  recollection  in  which 
we  are  unable  to  definitely  localize  the  mnemonic 
image.  To  the  consideration  of  these  we  will  now 
turn. 


B.  Indefinite  localization. 

Speaking  roughly  and  generally,  we  may  say  that 
the  vividness  of  an  image  of  memory  decreases  in  pro¬ 
portion  as  the  distance  of  the  event  increases.  And 
this  is  the  rule  which  we  unconsciously  apply  in 
determining  distance  in  time.  Nevertheless,  this  rule 
gives  us  by  no  means  an  infallible  criterion  of  distance. 
The  very  fact  that  different  people  so  often  dispute 
about  the  dates  and  the  order  of  past  events  experienced 
in  common,  shows  pretty  plainly  that  images  of  the 

1  Cf.  Hartley,  Observations  on  Man,  Part  I.  cli.  iii.  sec.  4  (fifth  edit., 
p.  391). 


EFFECT  OF  VIVIDNESS  OF  RECOLLECTION.  257 


same  age  tend  to  arise  in  the  mind  with  very  unequal 
degrees  of  vividness. 

Sometimes  pictures  of  very  remote  incidents  may 
suddenly  present  themselves  to  our  minds  with  a 
singular  degree  of  brightness  and  force.  And  when 
this  is  the  case,  there  is  a  disposition  to  think  of 
them  as  near.  If  the  relations  of  the  event  to  other 
events  preceding  and  succeeding  it  are  not  remem¬ 
bered,  this  momentary  illusion  will  persist.  We  have 
all  heard  persons  exclaim,  “  It  seems  only  yester¬ 
day,”  under  the  sense  of  nearness  which  accompanies 
a  recollection  of  a  remote  event  when  vividly  excited. 
The  most  familiar  instance  of  such  lively  reproduction 
is  the  feeling  which  we  experience  on  revisiting  the 
scene  of  some  memorable  event.  At  such  a  time  the 
past  may  return  with  something  of  the  insistence  of  a 
present  perceived  reality.  In  passing  from  place  to 
place,  in  talking  with  others,  and  in  reading,  we  are 
liable  to  the  sudden  return  by  hidden  paths  of  associa¬ 
tion  of  images  of  incidents  that  had  long  seemed 
forgotten,  and  win  n  they  thus  start  up  fresh  and 
vigorous,  away  from  their  proper  surroundings,  they 
invariably  induce  a  feeling  of  the  propinquity  of  the 
events. 

In  many  cases  we  cannot  say  why  these  particular 
images,  long  buried  in  oblivion,  should  thus  suddenly 
regain  so  much  vitality.  There  seems,  indeed,  to  be 
almost  as  much  that  is  arbitrary  and  capricious  in  the 
selection  by  memory  of  its  vivid  images  as  in  the 
selection  of  its  images  as  a  whole ;  and,  this  being  so, 
it  is  plain  that  we  are  greatly  exposed  to  the  risk  of 
illusion  from  this  source. 


258 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


There  is  an  opposite  effect  in  the  case  of  recent 
occurrences  that,  for  some  reason  or  another,  have 
left  but  a  faint  impression  on  the  memory ;  though 
this  fact  is  not,  perhaps,  so  familiar  as  the  other.  I 
met  a  friend,  we  will  suppose,  a  few  days  since  at  my 
club,  and  we  exchanged  a  few  words.  My  mind  was 
somewhat  preoccupied  at  the  time,  and  the  occurrence 
did  not  stamp  itself  on  my  recollection.  To-day  I 
meet  him  again,  and  he  reminds  me  of  a  promise 
I  made  him  at  the  time.  His  reminder  suffices  to 
restore  a  dim  image  of  the  incident,  but  the  fact 
of  its  dimness  leads  to  the  illusion  that  it  really 
happened  much  longer  ago,  and  it  is  only  on  my 
friend’s  strong  assurances,  and  on  reasoning  from  other 
data  that  it  must  have  occurred  the  day  he  mentions, 
that  I  am  able  to  dismiss  the  illusion. 

The  most  striking  examples  of  the  illusory  effect 
of  mere  vividness,  involving  a  complete  detachment 
of  the  event  from  the  prominent  landmarks  of  the 
past,  are  afforded  by  public  events  which  lie  outside- 
the  narrower  circle  of  our  personal  life,  and  which  do 
not  in  the  natural  course  of  things  become  linked  to 
any  definitely  localized  points  in  the  field  of  memory. 
These  events  may  be  very  stirring  and  engrossing 
for  the  time,  but  in  many  cases  they  pass  out  of  the 
mind  just  as  suddenly  as  they  entered  it.  We  have 
no  occasion  to  revert  to  them,  and  if  by  chance  we  are 
afterwards  reminded  of  them,  they  are  pretty  certain 
to  look  too  near,  just  because  the  fact  of  their  having 
greatly  interested  us  has  served  to  render  their  images 
particularly  vivid. 

A  curious  instance  of  this  illusory  effect  was 


ISOLATED  PUBLIC  EVENTS. 


259 


supplied  not  long  since  by  the  case  of  the  ex-de¬ 
tectives,  the  expiration  of  whose  term  of  punishment 
(three  years)  served  as  an  occasion  for  the  newspapers 
to  recall  the  event  of  their  trial  and  conviction.  The 
news  that  three  years  had  elapsed  since  this  well- 
remembered  occurrence  proved  very  startling  to  myself, 
and  to  a  number  of  my  friends,  all  of  us  agreeing  that 
the  event  did  not  seem  to  be  at  more  than  a  third  of  its 
real  distance.  More  than  one  newspaper  commented 
on  the  apparent  rapidity  of  the  time,  and  this  shows 
pretty  plainly  that  there  was  some  cause  at  work,  such 
as  I  have  suggested,  producing  a  common  illusion. 

I  have  treated  of  these  illusions  connected  with  the 
estimate  of  past  time  and  the  dating  of  past  events  as 
passive  illusions,  not  involving  any  active  predisposi¬ 
tion  on  the  part  of  the  imagination.  At  the  same 
time,  it  is  possible  that  error  in  these  matters  may  occa¬ 
sionally  depend  on  a  present  condition  of  the  feelings 
and  the  imagination.  It  seems  plain  that  since  the 
apparent  degree  of  remoteness  of  an  event  not  distinctly 
localized  in  the  past  varies  inversely  as  the  degree  of 
vividness  of  the  mnemonic  image,  any  conscious  con¬ 
centration  of  mind  on  a  recollection  will  tend  to  bring 
it  too  near.  In  this  way,  then,  an  illusory  propinquity 
may  be  given  to  a  recalled  event  through  a  mere 
desire  to  dwell  on  it,  or  even  a  capricious  wish  to 
deceive  one’s  self. 

When,  for  example,  old  friends  come  together  and 
talk  over  the  days  of  yore,  there  is  a  gradual  reinstate¬ 
ment  of  seemingly  lost  experiences,  which  often  partakes 
of  the  character  of  a  semi-voluntary  process  of  self- 
delusion.  Through  the  cumulative  effect  of  mutual 


260 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


reminder,  incident  after  incident  returns,  adding  some¬ 
thing  to  the  whole  picture  till  it  acquires  a  degree  of 
completeness,  coherence,  and  vividness  that  render  it 
hardly  distinguishable  from  a  very  recent  experience. 
The  process  is  like  looking  at  a  distant  object  through 
a  field-glass.  Mistiness  disappears,  fresh  details  come 
into  view,  till  we  seem  to  ourselves  to  be  almost  within 
reach  of  the  object. 

Where  the  mind  habitually  goes  back  to  some 
painful  circumstance  under  the  impulse  of  a  morbid 
disposition  to  nurse  regret,  this  momentary  illusion 
may  become  recurring,  and  amount  to  a  partial  con¬ 
fusion  of  the  near  and  the  remote  in  our  experience. 
An  injury  long  brooded  on  seems  at  length  a  thing 
that  continually  moves  forward  as  we  move ;  it  always 
presents  itself  to  our  memories  as  a  very  recent  event. 
In  states  of  insanity  brought  on  by  some  great  shock, 
we  see  this  morbid  tendency  to  resuscitate  the  dead 
past  fully  developed,  and  remote  events  and  circum¬ 
stances  becoming  confused  with  present  ones. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  more  healthy  states  of  mind 
there  presents  itself  an  exactly  opposite  tendency, 
namely,  an  impulse  of  the  will  to  banish  whatever 
when  recalled  gives  pain  to  the  furthest  conceivable 
regions  of  the  past.  Thus,  when  we  have  lost  some¬ 
thing  we  cherished  dearly,  and  the  recollection  of  it 
brings  fruitless  longing,  we  instinctively  seek  to  expel 
the  recollection  from  our  minds.  The  very  feeling 
that  w'hat  has  been  can  never  again  be,  seems  to  induce 
this  idea  of  a  vast  remoteness  of  the  vanished  reality. 
When,  moreover,  the  lost  object  was  fitted  to  call  forth 
the  emotion  of  reverence,  the  impulse  to  magnify  the 


CHERISHING  AND  BANISHING  THE  PAST.  261 


remoteness  of  the  loss  may  not  improbably  be  rein¬ 
forced  by  the  circumstance  that  everything  belonging 
to  the  distant  past  is  fitted  on  that  account  to  excite 
a  feeling  akin  to  reverence.  So,  again,  any  rupture  in 
our  mental  development  may  lead  us  to  exaggerate 
the  distance  of  some  past  portion  of  our  experience. 
When  we  have  broken  with  our  former  selves,  either  in 
the  way  of  worsening  or  bettering,  we  tend  to  project 
these  further  into  the  past. 

It  is  only  when  the  sting  of  the  recollection  is 
removed,  when,  for  example,  the  calling  up  of  the 
image  of  a  lost  friend  is  no  longer  accompanied  with 
the  bitterness  of  futile  longing,  that  a  healthy  mind 
ventures  to  nourish  recollections  of  such  remote  events 
and  to  view  these  as  part  of  its  recent  experiences. 
In  this  case  the  mnemonic  image  becomes  transformed 
into  a  kind  of  present  emotional  possession,  an  element 
of  that  idealized  and  sublimated  portion  of  our  ex¬ 
perience  with  which  all  imaginative  persons  fill  up 
the  emptiness  of  their  actual  lives,  and  to  which  the 
poet  is  wont  to  give  an  objective  embodiment  in  his 
verse. 


Distortions  of  Memory. 

It  is  now  time  to  pass  to  the  second  group  of 
illusions  of  memory,  which,  according  to  the  analogy 
of  visual  errors,  may  be  called  atmospheric  illusions. 
Here  the  degree  of  error  is  greater  than  in  the  case  of 
illusions  of  time-perspective,  since  the  very  nature  of 
the  events  or  circumstances  is  misconceived.  We  do 
not  recall  the  event  as  it  happened,  but  see  it  in  part 
only,  and  obscured,  or  bent  and  distorted  as  by  a 


262 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


process  of  refraction.  Indeed,  this  transformation  of 
the  past  docs  closely  correspond  with  the  transforma¬ 
tion  of  a  visible  object  effected  by  intervening  media. 
Our  minds  are  such  refracting  media,  and  the  past 
reappears  to  us  not  as  it  actually  was  when  it  was  close 
to  us,  but  in  numerous  ways  altered  and  disguised  by 
the  intervening  spaces  of  our  conscious  experience. 

To  begin  with,  what  we  call  recollection  is  uniformly 
a  process  of  softening  the  reality.  When  we  appear  to 
ourselves  to  realize  events  of  the  remote  past,  it  is 
plain  that  our  representation  in  a  general  wray  falls 
below  the  reality  :  the  vividness,  the  intensity  of  our 
impressions  disappears.  More  particularly,  so  far  as 
our  experiences  are  emotional,  they  tend  thus  to  be¬ 
come  toned  down  by  the  mere  lapse  of  time  and  the 
imperfections  of  our  reproductive  power.  That  which 
we  seem  to  see  in  the  act  of  recollection  is  thus  very 
different  from  the  reality. 

Not  only  is  there  this  general  deficiency  in 
mnemonic  representation,  there  are  special  deficiencies 
due  to  the  fact  of  oblivescence.  Our  memories  restore 
us  only  fragments  of  our  past  life.  And  just  as  objects 
seen  imperfectly  at  a  great  distance  may  assume  a 
shape  quite  unlike  their  real  one,  so  an  inadequate 
representation  of  a  past  event  by  memory  often  amounts 
to  misrepresentation.  When  revisiting  a  place  that 
we  have  not  seen  for  many  years,  we  are  apt  to  find 
that  our  recollection  of  it  consisted  only  of  some  in¬ 
significant  details,  which  arranged  themselves  in  our 
minds  into  s  mething  oddly  unlike  the  actual  scene 
So,  too,  some  accidental  accompaniment  of  an  incident 
in  early  life  is  preserved,  as  though  it  were  the  main 


FORGETFULNESS  AND  ERROR. 


263 


feature,  serving  to  give  quite  a  false  colouring  to  the 
whole  occurrence. 

It  seems  quite  impossible  to  account  for  these 
particular  survivals,  they  appear  to  be  so  capricious. 
When  a  little  time  has  elapsed  after  an  event,  and 
the  attendant  circumstances  fade  away  from  memory, 
it  is  often  difficult  to  say  why  we  were  impressed 
with  it  as  we  afterwards  prove  to  have  been.  It  is 
no  doubt  possible  to  see  that  many  of  the  recollections 
of  our  childhood  owe  their  vividness  to  the  fact  of 
the  exceptional  character  of  the  events;  but  this  can¬ 
not  always  be  recognized.  Some  of  them  seem  to  our 
mature  minds  very  oddly  selected,  although  no  doubt 
there  are  in  every  case  good  reasons,  if  we  could 
only  discover  them,  why  those  particular  incidents 
rather  than  any  others  should  have  been  retained. 

The  liability  to  error  resulting  from  mere  obliv- 
escence  and  the  arbitrary  selection  of  mental  images  is 
seen  most  plainly,  perhaps,  in  our  subsequent  represen¬ 
tation  and  e-timate  of  whole  periods  of  early  life.  Our 
idea  of  any  stage  of  our  past  history,  as  early  child¬ 
hood,  or  school  days,  is  built  up  out  of  a  few  fragmentary 
intellectual  relics  which  cannot  be  certainly  known  to 
answer  to  the  most  important  and  predominant  experi¬ 
ences  of  the  time.  When,  for  example,  we  try  to  decide 
whether  our  school  days  were  our  happiest  days,  as  is 
so  often  alleged,  it  is  obvious  that  we  are  liable  to  fall 
into  illusion  through  the  inadequacy  of  memory  to  pre¬ 
serve  characteristic  or  typical  features,  and  none  but 
these.  We  cannot  easily  recall  the  ordinary  every-day 
level  of  feeling  of  a  distant  period  of  life,  but  rather 
think  of  exceptional  moments  of  rejoicing  or  depression. 


264 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


The  ordinary  man’s  idea  of  the  emotional  experience  of 
his  school  days  is  probably  built  up  out  of  a  few  scrappy 
recollections  of  extraordinary  and  exciting  events,  such 
as  unexpected  holidays,  success  in  the  winning  of 
prizes,  famous  “  rows  ”  with  the  masters,  and  so  on. 

Besides  the  impossibility  of  getting  at  the  average 
and  prevailing  mental  tone  of  a  distant  section  of  life, 
there  is  a  special  difficulty  in  determining  the  degree 
of  happiness  of  the  past,  arising  from  the  fact  that  our 
memory  for  pleasures  and  for  pains  may  not  be  equally 
good.  Most  people,  perhaps,  can  recall  the  enjoyments 
of  the  past  much  more  vividly  than  the  sufferings. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  seem  to  be  some  who  find 
the  retention  of  the  latter  the  easier  of  the  two.  This 
fact  should  not  be  forgotten  in  reading  the  narrative 
of  early  hardships  which  some  recent  autobiographies 
have  given  us. 

Not  only  does  our  idea  of  the  past  become  inexact 
by  the  mere  decay  and  disappearance  of  essential 
features,  it  becomes  positively  incorrect  through  the 
gradual  incorporation  of  elements  that  do  not  properly 
belong  to  it.  Sometimes  it  is  easy  to  see  how  these 
extraneous  ideas  get  imported  into  our  mental  repre¬ 
sentation  of  a  past  event.  Suppose,  for  example,  that 
a  man  has  lost  a  valuable  scarf-pin.  His  wife  suggests 
that  a  particular  servant,  whose  reputation  does  not 
stand  too  high,  has  stolen  it.  When  he  afterwards 
recalls  the  loss,  the  chances  are  that  he  will  confuse 
the  fact  with  the  conjecture  attached  to  it,  and  say  he 
remembers  that  this  particular  servant  did  steal  the 
pin.  Thus,  the  past  activity  of  imagination  serves  to 
corrupt  and  partially  falsify  recollections  that  have  a 
genuine  basis  of  fact. 


CONFUSION  OF  MNEMONIC  ELEMENTS. 


265 


It  is  evident  that  this  class  of  mnemonic  illusions 
approximates  in  character  to  illusions  of  perception. 
When  the  imagination  supplies  the  interpretation  at 
the  very  time,  and  the  mind  reads  this  into  the  per¬ 
ceived  object,  the  error  is  one  of  perception.^  When 
the  addition  is  made  afterwards,  on  reflecting  upon  the 
perception,  the  error  is  one  of  memory.  The  “  fallacies 
of  testimony  ”  which  depend  on  an  adulteration  of  pure 
observation  with  inference  and  conjecture,  as,  for 
example,  the  inaccurate  and  wild  statements  of  people 
respecting  their  experiences  at  spiritualist  seances, 
while  they  illustrate  the  curious  blending  of  both 
kinds  of  error,  are  probably  much  oftener  illusions  of 
memory  than  of  perception.1 

Although  in  many  cases  we  can  account  to  ourselves 
for  this  confusion  of  fact  and  imagination,  in  other 
cases  it  is  difficult  to  see  any  close  relation  between 
the  fact  remembered  and  the  foreign  element  imported 
into  it.  An  idea  of  memory  seems  sometimes  to  lose 
its  proper  moorings,  so  to  speak ;  to  drift  about  help¬ 
lessly  among  other  ideas,  and  finally,  by  some  chance, 
to  hook  itself  on  to  one  of  these,  as  though  it  naturally 
belonged  to  it.  Anybody  who  has  had  an  opportunity 
of  carefully  testing  the  truthfulness  of  his  recollection 
of  some  remote  event  in  early  life  will  have  found  how 
oddly  extraneous  elements  become  incorporated  into 
the  memorial  picture.  Incidents  get  put  into  wrong 
places,  the  wrong  persons  are  introduced  into  a  scene, 
and  so  on.  Here  again  we  may  illustrate  the  mne¬ 
monic  illusion  by  a  visual  one.  When  a  tree  standing 
before  or  behind  a  house  and  projecting  above  or  to 

1  See  Dr.  Carpenter’a  Mental  Fhysio’orjy,  fourth  edit.,  p.  456. 


266 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


the  side  of  it  is  not  sharply  distinguished  from  the 
latter,  it  may  serve  to  give  it  a  very  odd  appearance. 

These  confusions  of  the  mental  image  may  arise  even 
when  only  a  short  interval  has  elapsed.  In  the  case  of 
many  of  the  fleeting  impressions  that  are  only  half 
recollected,  this  kind  of  error  is  very  easy.  Thus,  for 
example,  I  may  have  lent  a  book  to  a  friend  last  week. 
I  really  remember  the  act  of  lending  it,  but  have 
forgotten  the  person.  But  I  am  not  aware  of  this. 
The  picture  of  memory  has  unknowingly  to  myself 
been  filled  up  by  this  unconscious  process  of  shifting 
and  rearrangement,  and  the  idea  of  another  person  has 
by  some  odd  accident  got  substituted  for  that  of  the 
real  borrower.  If  we  could  go  deeply  enough  into  the 
matter,  we  should,  of  course,  be  able  to  explain  why  this 
particular  confusion  arose.  We  might  find,  for  ex¬ 
ample,  that  the  two  persons  were  associated  in  my 
mind  by  a  link  of  resemblance,  or  that  I  had 
dealings  with  the  other  person  about  the  same  time. 
Similarly,  when  we  manage  to  join  an  event  to  a  wrong 
place,  we  may  find  that  it  is  because  we  heard  of  the 
occurrence  when  staying  at  the  particular  locality,  or 
in  some  other  way  had  the  image  of  the  place  closely 
associated  in  our  minds  with  the  event.  But  often  we 
are  wholly  unable  to  explain  the  displacement. 

So  far  I  have  been  speaking  of  the  passive  pro¬ 
cesses  by  which  the  past  comes  to  wear  a  new  face  to 
our  imaginations.  In  these  our  present  habits  of  feeling 
and  thinking  take  no  part ;  all  is  the  work  of  the  past, 
of  the  decay  of  memory,  and  the  gradual  confusion  of 
images.  This  process  of  disorganization  may  be 
likened  to  the  action  of  damp  on  some  old  manuscript, 


ACTIVE  TRANSFORMATION  OF  PAST. 


267 


obliterating  some  parts,  altering  the  appearance  of 
others,  and  even  dislocating  certain  portions.  Besides 
this  passive  process  of  transformation,  there  is  a  more 
active  one  in  which  our  present  minds  co-operate.  In 
memory,  as  in  perception  and  introspection,  there  is  a 
process  of  preparation  or  preadjustment  of  mind,  and 
here  will  be  found  room  for  what  I  had  called  active 
error.  This  may  be  illustrated  by  the  operation  of  “  in¬ 
terpreting  ”  an  old  manuscript  which  has  got  partially 
obliterated,  or  of  “  restoring  ”  a  faded  picture  ;  in  each 
of  which  operations  error  will  be  pretty  sure  to  creep 
in  through  an  importation  of  the  restorer’s  own  ideas 
into  the  relic  of  the  past. 

Just  as  when  distant  objects  are  seen  mistily  our 
imaginations  come  into  play,  leading  us  to  fancy  that 
we  see  something  completely  and  distinctly,  so  when 
the  images  of  memory  become  dim,  our  present  imagi¬ 
nation  helps  to  restore  them,  putting  a  new  patch 
into  the  old  garment.  If  only  there  is  some  relic  of  the 
past  event  preserved,  a  bare  suggestion  of  the  way  in 
which  it  may  have  happened  will  often  suffice  to  pro¬ 
duce  the  conviction  that  it  actually  did  happen  in  this 
way.  The  suggestions  that  naturally  arise  in  our 
minds  at  such  times  will  bear  the  stamp  of  our  present 
modes  of  experience  and  habits  of  thought.  Hence,  in 
trying  to  reconstruct  the  remote  past,  we  are  constantly 
in  danger  of  importing  our  present  selves  into  our  past 
selves. 

The  kind  of  illusion  of  memory  which  thus  depends 
on  the  spontaneous  or  independent  activity  of  present 
imagination  is  strikingly  illustrated  in  the  curious 
cases  of  mistaken  identity  with  which  the  proceedings 


2G8 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


of  our  law  courts  supply  us  from  time  to  time.  When 
a  witness  in  good  faith,  but  erroneously,  affirms  that  a 
man  is  the  same  as  an  old  acquaintance  of  his,  we  may 
feel  sure  that  there  is  some  striking  point  or  points  of 
similarity  between  the  two  persons.  But  this  of  itself 
would  only  partly  account  for  the  illusion,  since  we 
often  see  new  faces  that,  by  a  number  of  curious  points 
of  affinity,  call  up  in  a  tantalizing  way  old  and  familiar 
ones.  What  helps  in  this  case  to  produce  the  illu¬ 
sion  is  the  preconception  that  the  present  man  is  the 
witness’s  old  friend.  That  is  to  say,  his  recollection 
is  partly  true,  though  largely  false.  He  does  really 
recall  the  similar  feature,  movement,  or  tone  of  voice; 
he  only  seems  to  himself  to  recall  the  rest  of  his  friend’s 
appearance ;  for,  to  speak  correctly,  he  projects  the 
present  impression  into  the  past,  and  constructs  his 
friend’s  face  out  of  elements  supplied  by  the  new  one. 
Owing  to  this  cause,  an  illusion  of  memory  is  apt  to 
multiply  itself,  one  man’s  assertion  of  what  happened 
producing  by  contagion  a  counterfeit  of  memory’s  record 
in  other  minds. 

I  said  just  now  that  we  tend  to  project  our  present 
modes  of  experience  into  the  past.  We  paint  our  past 
in  the  hues  of  the  present.  Thus  we  imagine  that 
things  which  impressed  us  in  some  remote  period  of 
life  must  answer  to  what  is  impressive  in  our  present 
stage  of  mental  development.  For  example,  a  person 
recalls  a  hill  near  the  home  of  his  childhood,  and  has 
the  conviction  that  it  was  of  great  height.  On  revisit¬ 
ing  the  place  he  finds  that  the  eminence  is  quite 
insignificant.  How  can  we  account  for  this  ?  For  one 
thing,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  to  his  undeveloped 


PAST  INTERPRETED  BY  PRESENT 


2G9 


childish  muscles  the  climbing  to  the  top  meant  a  con¬ 
siderable  expenditure  of  energy,  to  be  followed  by  a 
sense  of  fatigue.  The  man  remembers  these  feelings, 
and  “unconsciously  reasoning”  by  present  experience, 
that  is  to  say,  by  the  amount  of  walking  which  would 
now  produce  this  sense  of  fatigue,  imagines  that  the 
height  was  vastly  greater  than  it  really  was.  Another 
reason  is,  of  course,  that  a  wider  knowledge  of  mountains 
has  resulted  in  a  great  alteration  of  the  man’s  standard 
of  height. 

From  this  cause  arises  a  tendency  generally  to 
exaggerate  the  impressions  of  early  life.  Youth  is 
the  period  of  novel  effects,  when  all  the  world  is  fresh, 
and  new  and  striking  impressions  crowd  in  thickly  on 
the  mind.  Consequently,  it  takes  much  less  to  pro¬ 
duce  a  given  amount  of  mental  excitation  in  childhood 
than  in  after-life.  In  looking  back  on  this  part  of  our 
history,  we  recall  for  the  most  part  just  those  events 
and  scenes  which  deeply  stirred  our  minds  by  their 
strangeness,  novelty,  etc.,  and  so  impressed  themselves 
on  the  tablet  of  our  memory  ;  and  it  is  this  sense  of 
something  out  of  the  ordinary  beat  that  gives  the 
characteristic  colour  to  our  recollection.  In  other 
words,  we  remember  something  as  wonderful,  admir¬ 
able,  exceptionally  delightful,  and  so  on,  rather  than  as 
a  definitely  imagined  event.  This  being  so,  we  uncon¬ 
sciously  transform  the  past  occurrence  by  reasoning 
from  our  present  standard  of  what  is  impressive.  Who 
has  not  felt  an  unpleasant  disenchantment  on  revisiting 
some  church,  bouse,  or  park  that  seemed  a  wondrous 
paradise  to  his  young  eyes?  All  our  feelings  are 
capable  of  leading  us  into  this  kind  of  illusion.  What 


270 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


seemed  beautiful  or  awful  to  us  as  children,  is  now 
pictured  in  imagination  as  corresponding  to  what 
moves  our  mature  minds  to  delight  or  awe.  One 
cannot  help  wondering  what  we  should  think  of  our 
early  heroes  or  heroines  if  we  could  see  them  again 
with  our  adult  eyes  exactly  as  they  were. 

While  the  past  may  thus  take  on  an  illusory  hue 
through  the  very  progress  of  our  experience  and  our 
emotional  life,  it  may  become  further  transformed  by 
a  more  conscious  process,  namely,  the  idealizing  touch 
of  a  present  feeling.  The  way  in  which  the  emotions 
of  love,  reverence,  and  so  on,  thus  transform  their  lost 
objects  is  too  well  known  to  need  illustration.  Speak¬ 
ing  generally,  we  may  say  that  in  healthy  minds  the 
play  of  these  impulses  of  feeling  results  in  a  softening 
of  the  harsher  features  of  the  past,  and  in  an  idealization 
of  its  happier  and  brighter  aspects.  As  Wordsworth 
says,  we  may  assign  to  Memory  a  pencil — - 

“  That,  softening  objects,  sometimes  even 
Outstrips* the  heart’s  demand ; 

“  That  smoothes  foregone  distress,  the  lines 
Of  lingering  care  subdues, 

Long-vanished  happiness  refines, 

And  clothes  in  brighter  hues.”1 

Enough  has  now  been  said,  perhaps,  to  show  in 
how  many  ways  our  retrospective  imagination  trans¬ 
forms  the  actual  events  of  our  past  life.  So  thoroughly, 
indeed,  do  the  relics  of  this  past  get  shaken  together 
in  new  kaleidoscopic  combinations,  so  much  of  the 

1  This  is,  perhaps,  what  is  meant  by  saying  that  people  recall  their 
past  enjoyments  more  readily  than  their  sufferings.  Yet  much  seems 
to  turn  on  temperament  and  emotional  peculiarities.  (For  a  fuller 
discussion  of  the  point,  see  my  Pessimism,  p.  344.) 


EXTENT  OF  TRANSFORMATION. 


271 


result  of  later  experiences  gets  imported  into  our  early 
years,  that  it  may  well  be  asked  whether,  if  the  record 
of  our  actual  life  were  ever  read  out  to  us,  we  should  be 
able  to  recognize  it.  It  looks  as  though  we  could  be 
sure  of  recalling  only  recent  events  with  any  degree  of 
accuracy  and  completeness.  As  soon  as  they  recede  at 
any  considerable  distance  from  us,  they  are  subject  to 
a  sort  of  atmospheric  effect.  Much  grows  indistinct 
and  drops  altogether  out  of  sight,  and  what  is  still 
seen  often  takes  a  new  and  grotesquely  unlike  shape. 
More  than  this,  the  play  of  fancy,  like  the  action  of 
some  refracting  medium,  bends  and  distorts  the  out¬ 
lines  of  memory’s  objects,  making  them  wholly  unlike 
the  originals. 


Hallucinations  of  Memory. 

We  will  now  go  on  to  the  third  class  of  mnemonic 
error,  which  I  have  called  the  spectra  of  memory, 
where  there  is  not  simply  a  transformation  of  the 
past  event,  but  a  complete  imaginative  creation  of 
it.  This  class  of  error  corresponds,  as  I  have  observed, 
to  an  hallucination  in  the  region  of  sense-perception. 
And  just  as  we  distinguished  between  those  halluci¬ 
nations  of  sense  which  arise  first  of  all  through,  some 
peripherally  caused  subjective  sensation,  and  those 
which  want  even  this  element  of  reality  and  depend 
altogether  on  the  activity  of  imagination,  so  we  may 
mark  off  two  classes  of  mnemonic  hallucination.  The 
false  recollection  may  correspond  to  something  past— 
and  to  this  extent  be  a  recollection — though  not  to 
any  objective  fact,  but  only  to  a  subjective  represen¬ 
tation  of  such  a  fact,  as,  for  example,  a  dream.  In 


272 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


this  case  the  imitation  of  the  mnemonic  process  may 
be  very  definite  and  complete.  Or  the  false  recollec¬ 
tion  may  be  wholly  a  retrojection  of  a  present  mental 
image,  and  so  by  no  stretch  of  language  be  deserving 
of  the  name  recollection. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  by  any  effort  of  will  a  person 
could  bring  himself  to  regard  a  figment  of  his  present 
imagination  as  representative  of  a  past  reality.  Defi¬ 
nite  and  complete  hallucinations  of  this  sort  do  not  in 
normal  circumstances  arise.  It  seems  necessary  for  a 
complete  illusion  of  memory  that  there  should  be  some¬ 
thing  past  and  recovered  at  the  moment,  though  this 
may  not  be  a  real  personal  experience.1  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  possible,  as  we  shall  presently  see, 
under  certain  circumstances,  to  create  out  of  present 
materials,  and  in  a  vague  and  indefinite  shape,  pure 
phantoms  of  past  experience,  that  is  to  say,  quasi- 
mnemonic  images  to  which  there  correspond  no  past 
occurrences  whatever. 

All  recollection,  as  we  have  seen,  takes  place  by 
means  of  a  present  mental  image  which  returns  with 
a  certain  degree  of  vividness,  and  is  instantaneously 
identified  with  some  past  event.  In  many  cases  this 
instinctive  process  of  identification  proves  to  be 
legitimate,  for,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  real  impressions 

1  The  only  exception  to  this  that  I  cnn  think  of  is  to  be  found 
in  the  power  which  I,  at  least,  possess,  after  looking  at  a  new  object, 
of  representing  it  as  a  familiar  one.  Yet  this  may  be  explained  by 
saying  that  in  the  case  of  every  object  which  is  clearly  apprehended 
there  must  be  vague  revivals  of  similar  objects  perceived  before. 
Oases  in  which  recent  experiences  tend,  owing  to  their  peculiar  nature, 
very  rapidly  to  assume  the  appearance  of  old  events,  will  be  con 
sidered  presently. 


HALLUCINATIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


273 


are  the  first  and  the  commonest  source  of  such  lively 
mnemonic  images.  But  it  is  not  always  so.  There 
are  other  sources  of  our  mental  imagery  which  com¬ 
pete,  so  to  speak,  with  the  region  of  real  personal 
experience.  And  sometimes  these  leave  behind  them 
a  vivid  image  having  all  the  appearance  of  a  genuine 
mnemonic  image.  When  this  is  so,  it  is  impossible  by 
a  mere  introspective  glance  to  detect  the  falsity  of  the 
message  from  the  past.  We  are  in  the  same  position 
as  the  purchaser  in  a  jet  market,  where  a  spurious 
commodity  has  got  inextricably  mixed  up  with  the 
genuine,  and  there  is  no  ready  criterion  by  which  he 
can  distinguish  the  true  from  the  false.  Such  a 
person,  if  he  purchases  freely,  is  pretty  sure  to  make 
a  number  of  mistakes.  Similarly,  all  of  us  are  liable 
to  take  counterfeit  mnemonic  images  for  genuine  ones; 
that  is  to  say,  to  fall  into  an  illusion  of  “recollecting” 
what  never  really  took  place. 

But  what,  it  may  be  asked,  are  these  false  and 
illegitimate  sources  of  mnemonic  images,  these  un¬ 
authorized  mints  which  issue  a  spurious  mental 
coinage,  and  so  confuse  the  genuine  currency  ?  They 
consist  of  two  regions  of  our  internal  mental  life, 
which  most  closely  resemble  the  actual  perception  of 
real  things  in  vividness  and  force,  namely,  dream- 
consciousness  and  waking  imagination.  Each  of  these 
may  introduce  into  the  mind  vivid  images  which 
afterwards  tend,  under  certain  circumstances,  to  assume 
the  euise  of  recollections  of  actual  events. 

^  That  our  dream-experience  may  now  and  again 
lead  us  into  illusory  recollection  has  already  been 
hinted.  And  it  is  easy  to  understand  why  this  is  so. 

13 


274 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


When  dreaming  we  have,  as  we  have  seen,  a  mental 
experience  which  closely  approximates  in  intensity 
and  reality  to  that  of  waking  perception.  Conse¬ 
quently,  dreams  may  leave  behind  them,  for  a  time, 
vivid  images  which  simulate  the  appearance  of  real 
images  of  memory.  Most  of  us,  perhaps,  have  felt 
this  after-effect  of  dreaming  on  our  waking  thoughts. 
It  is  sometimes  very  hard  to  shake  off  the  impression 
left  by  a  vivid  dream,  as,  for  example,  that  a  dead 
friend  has  returned  to  life.  During  the  day  that 
follows  the  dream,  we  have  at  intermittent  moments 
something  like  an  assurance  that  we  have  seen  our 
lost  friend ;  and  though  we  immediately  correct 
the  impression  by  reflecting  that  we  are  recalling  but 
a  dream,  it  tends  to  revive  within  us  with  a  strange 
pertinacity. 

In  addition  to  this  proximate  effect  of  a  dream 
in  disturbing  the  normal  process  of  recollection,  there 
is  reason  to  suppose  that  dreams  may  exert  a  more 
remote  effect  on  our  memories.  So  widely  different  in 
its  form  is  our  dreaming  from  our  waking  experience, 
that  our  dreams  are  rarely  recalled  as  wholes  with 
perfect  distinctness.  They  revive  in  us  only  as  dis¬ 
jointed  fragments,  and  only  for  brief  moments  when 
some  accidental  resemblance  in  the  present  happens 
to  stir  the  latent  trace  they  have  left  on  our  minds. 
We  get  sudden  flashes  out  of  our  dream-world,  and  the 
process  is  too  rapid,  too  incomplete  for  us  to  identify 
the  region  whence  the  fla-hes  come. 

It  is  highly  probable  that' our  dreams  are,  to  a 
large  extent,  answerable  for  the  sense  of  familiarity 
that  we  sometimes  experierce  in  visiting  a  new  locality 


DEEAMS  AND  FALSE  KECOLLECTION.  275 


or  in  seeing  a  new  face.  If,  as  we  have  found  some  of 
the  best  authorities  saying,  we  are,  when  asleep,  always 
dreaming  more  or  less  distinctly,  and  if,  as  we  know, 
dreaming  is  a  continual  process  of  transformation  of 
our  waking  impressions  in  new  combinations,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  our  dreams  should  sometimes  take  the 
form  of  forecasts  of  our  waking  life,  and  that  conse¬ 
quently  objects  and  scenes  of  this  life  never  before 
seen  should  now  and  again  wear  a  familiar  look. 


That  some  instances  of  this  puzzling  sense  of  famili¬ 
arity  can  be  explained  in  this  way  is  proved.  Thus, 
Paul  Radestock,  in  the  work  Schlaf  und  Traum,  already 
quoted,  tells  us :  “  When  I  have  been  taking  a  walk, 
with  my  thoughts  quite  unfettered,  the  idea  has  often 
occurred  to  me  that  I  had  seen,  heard,  or  thought  of 
this  or  that  thing  once  before,  without  being  able  to 
recall  when,  where,  and  in  what  circumstances.  This 
happened  at  the  time  when,  with  a  view  to  the  pub¬ 
lication  of  the  present  work,  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
keeping  an  exact  record  of  my  dreams.  Consequently, 
I  was  able  to  turn  to  this  after  these  impressions,  and 
on  doing  so  I  generally  found  the  conjecture  confirmed 
that  I  had  previously  dreamt  something  like  it.” 
Scientific  inquiry  is  often  said  to  destroy  all  beautiful 
thoughts  about  nature  and  life  ;  but  while  it  destroys 
it  creates.  Is  it  not  almost  a  romantic  idea  that  just 
as  our  waking  life  images  itself  in  our  dreams,  so 
our  dream-life  may  send  back  some  of  its  shadowy 
phantoms  into  our  prosaic  every-day  world,  touching 
this  with  something  of  its  own  weird  beauty  ? 

Not  only  may  dreams  beget  these  momentary 
illusions  of  memory,  they  may  give  rise  to  something 


276 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


like  permanent  illusions.  If  a  dream  serves  to  connect 
a  certain  idea  with  a  place  or  person,  and  subsequent 
experience  does  not  tend  to  correct  this,  we  may  keep 
the  belief  that  we  have  actually  witnessed  the  event. 
And  we  may  naturally  expect  that  this  result  will 
occur  most  frequently  in  the  case  of  those  who 
habitually  dream  vividly,  as  young  children. 

It  seems  to  me  that  many  of  the  quaint  fancies 
which  children  get  into  their  heads  about  things  they 
hear  of  arise  in  this  way.  I  know  a  person  who,  when 
a  child,  got  the  notion  that  when  his  baby-brother  was 
weaned,  he  was  taken  up  on  a  grassy  hill  and  tossed 
about.  He  had  a  vivid  idea  of  having  seen  this  curious 
ceremony.  He  has  in  vain  tried  to  get  an  explanation 
of  this  picturesque  rendering  of  an  incident  of  baby¬ 
hood  from  his  friends,  and  has  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  the  result  of  a  dream.  If,  as  seems 
probable,  children’s  dreams  thus  give  rise  to  subse¬ 
quent  illusions  of  memory,  the  fact  would  throw  a 
curious  light  on  some  of  the  startling  quasi-records 
of  childish  experience  to  be  met  with  in  autobio¬ 
graphical  literature. 

Odd  though  it  may  at  first  appear,  old  age  is  said  to 
resemble  youth  in  this  confusion  of  dream-recollection 
with  the  memory  of  waking  experience.  Dr.  Car¬ 
penter  1  tells  us  of  “  a  lady  of  advanced  age  who 
.  .  .  continually  dreams  about  passing  events,  and 
seems  entirely  unable  to  distinguish  between  her 
dreaming  and  her  waking  experiences,  narrating  the 
former  with  implicit  belief  in  them,  and  giving  direc¬ 
tions  based  on  them.”  This  confusion  in  the  case 
1  Mental  Phynology,  p.  456. 


EFFECTS  OF  PAST  IMAGINATION. 


277 


of  the  old  may  possibly  arise  not  from  an  increase  in 
the  intensity  of  the  dreams,  but  from  a  decrease  in  tho 
intensity  of  the  waking  impressions.  As  Sir  Henry 
Holland  remarks,1  in  old  age  life  approaches  to  the 
state  of  a  dream. 

The  other  source  of  what  may,  by  analogy  with 
the  hallucinations  of  sense,  be  called  the  peri¬ 
pherally  originating  spectra  of  memory  is  waking 
imagination.  In  certain  morbid  conditions  of  mind, 
and  in  the  case  of  the  few  healthy  minds  endowed 
with  special  imaginative  force,  the  products  of  this 
mental  activity,  may,  as  we  saw  when  dealing  with 
illusions  of  perception,  closely  resemble  dreams  in 
their  vividness  and  apparent  actuality.  When  this  is 
the  case,  illusions  of  memory  may  arise  at  once  just 
as  in  the  case  of  dreams.  This  will  happen  more 
easily  when  the  imagination  has  for  some  time  been 
occupied  with  the  same  group  of  ideal  scenes,  persons, 
or  events.  To  Dickens,  as  is  well  known,  his  fictitious 
characters  were  for  the  time  realities,  and  after  he  had 
finished  his  story  their  forms  and  their  doings  lingered 
with  him,  assuming  the  aspect  of  personal  recollec¬ 
tions.  So,  too,  the  energetic  activity  of  imagination 
which  accompanies  a  deep  and  absorbing  sympathy 
with  another’s  painful  experiences,  may  easily  result 
in  so  vivid  a  realization  of  all  their  details  as  to  leave 
an  after-sense  of  personal  suffering.  All  highly  sym¬ 
pathetic  persons  who  have  closely  accompanied  beloved 
friends  through  a  great  sorrow  have  known  something 
of  this  subsequent  feeling. 

The  close  connection  and  continuity  between  nor- 

1  Mental  Fhysiology,  second  edit.,  p.  172. 


278 


ILLUSION  OF  MEMORY. 


mal  and  abnormal  states  of  mind  is  illustrated  in 
the  fact  that  in  insanity  the  illusion  of  taking  past 
imaginations  for  past  realities  becomes  far  more  power¬ 
ful  and  persistent.  Abercrombie  ( Intellectual  Powers, 
Part  III.  sec.  iv,  §  2,  “  Insanity  ”)  speaks  of  “  visions 
of  the  imagination  which  have  formerly  been  indulged 
in  of  that  kind  which  we  call  waking  dreams  or 
castlc-building  recurring  to  the  mind  in  this  condition, 
and  now  believed  to  have  a  real  existence.”  Thus, 
for  example,  one  patient  believed  in  the  reality  of  the 
good  luck  previously  predicted  by  a  fortune-teller. 
Other  writers  on  mental  disease  observe  that  it  is  a 
common  thing  for  the  monomaniac  to  cherish  the 
delusion  that  he  has  actually  gained  the  object  of 
some  previous  ambition,  or  is  undergoing  some  pre¬ 
viously  dreaded  calamity. 

Nor  is  it  necessary  to  these  illusions  of  memory 
that  there  should  be  any  exceptional  force  of  imagina¬ 
tion.  A  fairly  vivid  representation  to  ourselves  of 
anything,  whether  real  or  fictitious,  communicated  by 
others,  will  often  result  in  something  very  like  a 
personal  recollection.  In  the  case  of  works  of  history 
and  fiction,  which  adopt  the  narrative  tense,  this 
tendency  to  a  subsequent  illusion  of  memory  is 
strengthened  by  the  disposition  of  the  mind  at  the 
moment  of  reading  to  project  itself  backwards  as  in 
an  act  of  recollection.  This  is  a  point  which  will  be 
further  dealt  with  in  the  next  chapter. 

In  most  cases,  however,  illusions  of  memory  growing 
out  of  previous  activities  of  the  imagination  appear  only 
after  the  lapse  of  some  time,  w  hen  in  the  natural  course 
of  things  the  mental  images  derived  from  actual  ex- 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 


279 


perience  would  siuk  to  a  certain  degree  of  faintness. 
Habitual  novel-readers  often  catch  themselves  mis¬ 
taking  the  echo  of  some  passage  in  a  good  story  for 
the  trace  left  by  an  actual  event.  A  person’s  name, 
a  striking  saying,  and  even  an  event  itself,  when  we 
first  come  across  it  or  experience  it,  may  for  a  moment 
seem  familiar  to  us,  and  to  recall  some  past  like 
impression,  if  it  only  happens  to  resemble  something 
in  the  works  of  a  favourite  novelist.  And  so,  too,  any 
recital  of  another’s  experience,  whether  oral  or  literary, 
if  it  deeply  interests  us  and  awakens  a  specially  vivid 
imagination  of  the  events  described,  may  easily  be¬ 
come  the  starting-point  of  an  illusory  recollection. 

Children  are  in  the  habit  of  “drinking  in”  with 
their  vigorous  and  eager  imaginations  what  is  told 
them  and  read  to  them,  and  hence  they  are  specially 
likely  to  fall  into  this  kind  of  error.  Not  only  so : 
when  they  grow  up  and  their  early  recollections  lose 
their  definiteness,  becoming  a  few  fragments  saved 
from  a  lost  past,  it  must  pretty  certainly  happen  that 
if  any  ideas  derived  from  these  recitals  are  preserved, 
they  will  simulate  the  form  of  memories.  Thus,  I 
have  often  caught  myself  for  a  moment  under  the 
sway  of  the  illusion  that  I  actually  visited  the  Exhi¬ 
bition  of  1851,  the  reason  being  that  I  am  able  to 
recall  the  descriptions  given  to  me  of  it  by  my  friends, 
and  the  excitement  attending  their  journey  to  London 
on  the  occasion.  It  is  to  be  added  that  repetition  of 
the  act  of  imagination  will  tend  still  further  to  deepen 
the  subsequent  feeling  that  we  are  recollecting  some¬ 
thing.  As  Hartley  well  observes,  a  man,  by  repeating 
a  story,  easily  comes  to  suppose  that  he  remembers  it.1 

1  Loc.  cit.,  p.  390. 


280 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


Here,  then,  we  have  another  source  of  error  that 
we  must  take  into  account  in  judging  of  the  authen¬ 
ticity  of  an  autobiographical  narration  of  the  events 
of  childhood.  The  more  imaginative  the  writer,  the 
greater  the  risk  of  illusion  from  this  source  as  well 
as  from  that  of  dream-fancies.  It  is  highly  probable, 
indeed,  that  in  such  full  and  explicit  records  of  very 
early  life  as  those  given  by  Rousseau,  by  Goethe,  or 
by  De  Quincey,  some  part  of  the  quasi-narrative  is 
based  on  mental  images  which  come  floating  down 
the  stream  of  time,  not  from  the  substantial  world  of 
the  writer’s  personal  experience,  but  from  the  airy 
region  of  dream-land  or  of  waking  fancy. 

It  is  to  be  added  that  even  when  the  quasi¬ 
recollection  does  answer  to  a  real  event  of  childish 
history,  it  may  still  be  an  illusion.  The  fact  that 
others,  in  narrating  events  to  us,  are  able  to  awaken 
imaginations  that  afterwards  appear  as  past  realities, 
suggests  that  much  of  our  supposed  early  recollection 
owes  its  existence  to  what  our  parents  and  friends  have 
from  time  to  time  told  us  respecting  the  first  stages  of 
our  history.1  We  see,  then,  how  much  uncertainty 
attaches  to  all  autobiographical  description  of  very 
early  life. 

Modern  science  suggests  another  possible  source  of 
these  distinct  spectra  of  memory.  May  it  not  happen 
that,  by  the  law  of  hereditary  transmission,  which  is 
now  being  applied  to  mental  as  well  as  bodily  phe¬ 
nomena,  ancestral  experiences  will  now  and  then  reflect 

1  This  source  of  error  has  not  escaped  the  notice  of  autobiographers 
themselves.  See  the  remarks  of  Goethe  in  the  opening  passages  of 
his  Wahrheit  und  Diclitung. 


RECOLLECTION  OF  PRENATAL  EVENTS.  281 


themselves  in  our  mental  life,  and  so  give  rise  to  ap¬ 
parently  personal  recollections  ?  No  one  can  say  that 
this  is  not  so.  When  the  infant  first  steadies  his  eyes 
on  a  human  face,  it  may,  for  aught  we  know,  experience 
a  feeling  akin  to  that  described  above,  when  through 
a  survival  of  dream-fancy  we  take  some  new  scene  to 
be  already  familiar.  At  the  age  when  new  emotions 
rapidly  develop  themselves,  when  our  hearts  are  full 
of  wild  romantic  aspirations,  do  there  not  seem  to 
blend  with  the  eager  passion  of  the  time  deep  reso¬ 
nances  of  a  vast  and  mysterious  past,  and  may  not 
this  feeling  be  a  sort  of  reminiscence  of  prer  atal, 
that  is,  ancestral  experience  ? 

This  idea  is  certainly  a  fascinating  one,  worthy  to 
be  a  new  scientific  support  for  the  beautiful  thought 
of  Plato  and  of  Wordsworth.  But  in  our  present  state 
of  knowledge,  any  reasoning  on  this  supposition  would 
probably  appear  too  fanciful.  Some  day  we  may  find 
out  how  much  ancestral  experience  is  capable  of  be¬ 
queathing  in  this  way,  whether  simply  shadowy,  unde- 
finable  mental  tendencies,  or  something  like  definite 
concrete  ideas.  If,  for  example,  it  were  found  that  a 
child  that  was  descended  from  a  line  of  seafaring 
ancestors,  and  that  had  never  itself  seen  or  heard  of 
the  “  dark-gleaming  sea,”  manifested  a  feeling  of  re¬ 
cognition  when  first  beholding  it,  we  might  be  pretty 
sure  that  such  a  thing  as  recollection  of  prenatal  events 
does  take  place.  But  till  we  have  such  facts,  it  seems 
better  to  refer  the  “  shadowy  recollections  ”  to  sources 
which  fall  within  the  individual’s  own  experience. 

We  may  now  pass  to  those  hallucinations  of 
memory  which  are  analogous  to  the  centrally  excited 


282 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


hallucinations  of  sense-perception.  As  I  have  ob¬ 
served,  these  are  necessarily  vague  and  imperfectly 
developed. 

I  have  already  had  occasion  to  touch  on  the  fact  of 
the  vast  amount  of  our  forgotten  experience.  And  I 
observed  that  forgetfulness  was  a  common  negative  con¬ 
dition  of  mnemonic  illusion.  I  have  now  to  complete 
this  statement  by  the  observation  that  total  forget¬ 
fulness  of  any  period  or  stage  of  our  past  experience 
necessarily  tends  to  a  vague  kind  of  hallucination.  In 
looking  back  on  the  past,  we  see  no  absolute  gaps 
in  the  continuity  of  our  conscious  life ;  our  image 
of  this  past  is  essentially  one  of  an  unbroken  series 
of  conscious  experiences.  But  if  through  forget¬ 
fulness  a  part  of  the  series  is  effaced  from  memory,' 
how,  it  may  be  asked,  is  it  possible  to  construct  this 
perfectly  continuous  line  ?  The  answer  is  that  we  fill 
up  such  lacunae  vaguely  by  help  of  some  very  im¬ 
perfectly  imagined  common  type  of  conscious  expe¬ 
rience.  Just  as  the  eye  sees  no  gap  in  its  field  of 
vision  corresponding  to  the  “  blind  spot  ”  of  the  retina, 
but  carries  its  impression  over  this  area,  so  memory 
sees  no  lacuna  in  the  past,  but  carries  its  image  of 
conscious  life  over  each  of  the  forgotten  spaces. 

Sometimes  this  process  of  filling  in  gaps  in  the 
past  becomes  more  complete.  Thus,  for  example,  in 
recalling  a  particular  night  a  week  or  so  ago,  I  instinc¬ 
tively  represent  it  to  myself  as  so  many  hours  of  lying 
in  bed  with  the  waking  sensations  appropriate  to  the 
circumstances,  as  those  of  bodily  warmth  and  rest,  and 
of  the  surrounding  silence  and  darkness. 

It  is  apparent  that  I  cannot  conceive  myself  apart 


FILLING  UP  GAPS  IN  MEMORY. 


2S3 


from  some  mode  of  conscious  experience.  In  thinking 
of  myself  in  any  part  of  the  past  or  future  in  which 
there  is  actually  no  consciousness,  or  of  which  the  con¬ 
scious  content  is  quite  unknown  to  me,  I  necessarily 
imagine  myself  as  consciously  experiencing  something. 
If  I  picture  myself  under '  any  definitely  conceived 
circumstances,  I  irresistibly  import  into  my  mental 
image  the  feelings  appropriate  to  these  surroundings. 
In  this  way,  people  tend  to  imagine  themselves  after 
death  as  lying  in  the  grave,  feeling  its  darkness  and 
its  chilliness.  If  the  circumstances  of  the  time  are 
not  distinctly  represented,  the  conception  of  the  con¬ 
scious  experience  which  constitutes  that  piece  of  the 
ego  is  necessarily  vague,  and  seems  generally  to  resolve 
itself  into  a  representation  of  ourselves  as  dimly  selj 
conscious.  What  this  consciousness  of  self  consists  of 
is  a  point  that  will  be  taken  up  presently. 

Illusions  with  respect  to  Personal  Identity. 

It  would  seem  to  follow  from  these  errors  in  imagi¬ 
natively  filling  up  our  past  life,  that  our  conscious¬ 
ness  of  personal  identity  is  by  no  means  the  simple 
and  exact  process  which  it  is  commonly  supposed  to 
be.  I  have  a1  ready  remarked  that  the  very  fact  of 
there  being  so  large  a  region  of  the  irrevocable  in  our 
past  experience  proves  our  consciousness  of  personal 
continuity  to  be  largely  a  matter  of  inference,  or  of 
imaginative  conjecture,  and  not  simply  of  immediate 
recollection.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  our  power  of 
ignoring  whole  regions  of  the  past  and  of  leaping 
complacently  over  huge  gaps  in  our  memory  and 
linking  on  conscious  experience  with  conscious  ex- 


284 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


perience,  involves  an  illusory  sense  of  continuity,  and 
so  far  of  personal  identity.  Thus,  our  ordinary  image 
of  our  past  life,  if  only  by  omitting  the  very  large 
fraction  passed  in  -sleep,  in  at  least  an  approximately 
unconscious  state,  clearly  contains  an  ingredient  of 
illusion.1 

It  is  to  be  added  that  the  numerous  falsifications  of 
our  past  history,  which  our  retrospective  imagination 
is  capable  of  perpetrating,  make  our  representation  of 
ourselves  at  different  moments  and  in  different  stages 
of  our  past  history  to  a  considerable  extent  illusory. 
Thus,  though  to  mistake  a  past  dream-experience  for  a 
waking  one  may  not  be  to  lose  or  confuse  the  sense  of 
identity,  since  our  dreams  are,  after  all,  a  part  of  our 
experience,  yet  to  imagine  that  we  have  ourselves 
seen  what  we  have  only  heard  from  another  or  read  is 
clearly  to  confuse  the  boundaries  of  our  identity.  And 
with  respect  to  longer  sections  of  our  history,  it  is 
plain  that  when  we  wrongly  assimilate  our  remote  to 
our  present  self,  and  clothe  our  childish  nature  with 
the  feelings  and  the  ideas  of  our  adult  life,  we  identify 
ourselves  overmuch.  In  this  way,  through  the  cor¬ 
ruption  of  our  memory,  a  kind  of  sham  self  gets  mixed 
up  with  the  real  self,  so  that  we  cannot,  strictly  speak¬ 
ing,  be  sure  that  when  we  project  a  mnemonic  image 
into  the  remote  past  we  are  not  really  running  away 
from  our  true  personality. 

One  wonders  whether  those  persons  who,  in  consequence  of  an 
injury  to  their  brain,  periodically  pass  from  a  normal  into  an  abnormal 
condition  of  mind,  in  each  of  which  there  is  little  or  no  memory  of  the 
contents  of  the  other  state,  complete  their  idea  of  personal  continuity 
in  each  state  by  the  same  kind  of  process  as  that  described  in  the 
text. 


REMEMBERED  AND  IMAGINED  SELVES.  285 


So  far  I  have  been  touching  only  on  slight  errors 
in  the  recognition  of  that  identical  self  which  is  repre¬ 
sented  as  persisting  through  all  the  fluctuations  of 
conscious  life.  Other  and  grosser  illusions  connected 
with  personal  identity  are  also  found  to  be  closely 
related  to  defects  or  disturbances  of  the  ordinary 
mnemonic  process,  and  so  can  be  best  treated  here. 
In  order  to  understand  these,  we  must  inquire  a  little 
into  the  nature  of  our  idea  and  consciousness  of  a  per¬ 
sistent  self.  Here,  again,  I  would  remind  the  reader  that 
I  am  treating  the  point  only  so  far  as  it  can  be  treated 
scientifically  or  empirically,  that  is  to  say,  by  examin¬ 
ing  what  concrete  facts  or  data  of  experience  are 
taken  up  into  the  idea  of  self.  I  do  not  wish  to  fore¬ 
close  the  philosophic  question  whether  anything  more 
than  this  empirical  content  is  involved  in  the  con¬ 
ception. 

My  idea  of  myself  as  persisting  appears  to  be 
built  up  of  certain  similarities  in  the  succession  of  my 
experiences.  Thus,  my  permanent  self  consists,  on  the 
bodily  side,  of  a  continually  renewable  perception  of 
my  own  organism,  which  perception  is  mainly  visual 
and  tactual,  and  which  remains  pretty  constant 
within  certaiu  limits  of  time.  With  this  objective 
similarity  is  closely  conjoined  a  subjective  similarity. 
Thus,  the  same  sensibilities  continue  to  characterize 
the  various  parts  of  my  organism.  Similarly,  there  are 
the  higher  intellectual,  emotional,  and  moral  peculiari¬ 
ties  and  dispositions.  My  idea  of  my  persistent  self  is 
essentially  a  collective  image  representing  a  relatively 
anchanging  material  object,  endowed  with  unchanging 
sensibilities  and  forming  a  kind  of  support  for  per¬ 
manent  higher  mental  attributes. 


286 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


The  construction  of  this  idea  of  an  enduring  un¬ 
changing  ego  is  rendered  very  much  easier  by  the  fact 
that  certain  concrete  feelings  are  approximately  con¬ 
stant  elements  in  our  mental  life.  Among  these  must 
be  ranked  first  that  dimly  discriminated  mass  of 
organic  sensation  which  in  average  states  of  health 
is  fairly  constant,  and  which  stands  in  sharp  contrast 
to  the  fluctuating  external  sensations.  These  feelings 
enter  into  and  profoundly  colour  each  person’s  mental 
image  of  himself.  In  addition  to  this,  there  are  the 
frequently  recurring  higher  feelings,  the  dominant 
passions  and  ideas  which  approximate  more  or  less 
closely  to  constant  factors  of  our  conscious  experience. 

This  total  image  of  the  ego  becomes  defined  and 
rendered  precise  by  a  number  of  distinctions,  as  that 
between  my  own  body  or  that  particular  material 
object  with  which  are  intimately  united  all  my  feelings, 
and  other  material  objects  in  general ;  then  between 
my  organism  and  other  human  organisms,  with  which 
I  learn  to  connect  certain  feelings  answering  to  my 
own,  but  only  faintly  represented  instead  of  actually 
realized  feelings.  To  these  prime  distinctions  are 
added  others,  hardly  less  fundamental,  as  those  be¬ 
tween  my  individual  bodily  appearance  and  that  ot 
other  living  bodies,  between  my  personal  and  charac¬ 
teristic  modes  of  feeling  and  thinking  and  those  of 
others,  and  so  on. 

Our  sense  of  personal  identity  may  be  said  to  be 
rooted  in  that  special  side  of  the  mnemonic  process 
which  consists  in  the  linking  of  all  sequent  events 
together  by  means  of  a  thread  of  common  conscious¬ 
ness.  It  is  closely  connected  with  that  smooth, 


CONTENTS  OF  THE  IDEA  OF  SELF. 


287 


gliding  movement  of  imagination  which  appears  to 
involve  some  more  or  less  distinct  consciousness  of 
the  uniting  thread  of  similarity.  And  so  long  as  this 
movement  is  possible,  so  long,  that  is  to  say,  as  retro¬ 
spective  imagination  detects  the  common  element, 
which  we  may  specifically  call  the  recurring  con¬ 
sciousness  of  self,  so  long  is  there  the  undisturbed 
assurance  of  personal  identity.  Nay,  more,  even  when 
such  a  recognition  might  seem  to  be  difficult,  if  not 
impossible,  as  in  linking  together  the  very  unlike 
selves,  viewed  both  on  their  objective  and  subjective 
sides,  of  childhood,  youth,  and  mature  life,  the  mind 
manages,  as  we  have  seen,  to  feign  to  itself  a  suffi¬ 
cient  amount  of  such  similarity. 

But  this  process  of  linking  stage  to  stage,  of  discern¬ 
ing  the  common  or  the  recurring  amid  the  changing 
and  the  evanescent,  has  its  limits.  Every  great  and 
sudden  change  in  our  experience  tends,  momentarily  at 
least,  to  hinder  the  smooth  reflux  of  imagination.  It 
makes  too  sharp  a  break  in  our  conscious  life,  so  that 
imagination  is  incapable  of  spanning  the  gap  and 
realizing  the  then  and  the  now  as  parts  of  a  connected 
continuous  tissue.1 

These  changes  may  be  either  objective  or  subjec¬ 
tive.  Any  sudden  alteration  of  our  bodily  appear¬ 
ance  sensibly  impedes  the  movement  of  imagination. 
A  patient  after  a  fever,  when  he  first  looks  in  the  glass, 

1  The  reader  will  remark  that  this  condition  of  clear  intellectual 
consciousness,  namely,  a  certain  degree  of  similarity  and  continuity  of 
character  in  our  successive  mental  states,  is  complementary  to  the 
other  condition,  constant  change,  already  referred  to.  It  may,  per¬ 
haps,  be  said  that  all  clear  consciousness  lies  between  two  extremes  of 
excessive  sameness  and  excessive  difference. 


28  8 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


exclaims,  “  I  don’t  know  myself.”  More  commonly  the 
bodily  changes  which  affect  the  consciousness  of  an 
enduring  self  are  such  as  involve  considerable  altera¬ 
tions  of  coensesthesis,  or  the  mass  of  stable  organic 
•sensation.  Thus,  the  loss  of  a  limb,  by  cutting  off 
a  portion  of  the  old  sensations  through  which  the 
organism  may  be  said  to  be  immediately  felt,  and 
by  introducing  new  and  unfamiliar  feelings,  will  dis¬ 
tinctly  give  a  shock  to  our  consciousness  of  self. 

Purely  subjective  changes,  too,  or,  to  speak  cor¬ 
rectly,  such  as  are  known  subjectively  only,  will  suffice 
to  disturb  the  sense  of  personal  unity.  Any  great 
moral  shock,  involving  something  like  a  revolution  in 
our  recurring  emotional  experience,  seems  at  the 
moment  to  rupture  the  bond  of  identity.  And  even 
some  time  after,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  such 
cataclysms  in  our  mental  geology  lead  to  the  imagina¬ 
tive  thrusting  of  the  old  personality  away  from  the 
new  one  under  the  form  of  a  “  dead  self.”  1 

We  see,  then,  that  the  failure  of  our  ordinary 
assurance  of  personal  identity  is  due  to  the  recog¬ 
nition  of  difference  without  similarity.  It  arises  from 
an  act  of  memory — for  the  mind  must  still  be  able  to 
recall  the  past,  dimly  at  least — but  from  a  memory 
which  misses  its  habitual  support  in  a  recognized 

1  It  follows  that  any  great  transformation  of  our  environment  may 
lead  to  a  partial  confusion  with  respect  to  self.  For  not  only  do  great 
and  violent  changes  in  our  surroundings  beget  piofound  changes  in 
our  feelings  and  ideas,  but  since  the  idea  of  self  is  under  one  of  its 
aspects  essentially  that  of  a  relation  to  not-self,  any  great  revolution 
in  the  one  term  will  confuse  the  recognition  of  the  other.  This  fact  is 
expressed  in  the  common  expression  that  we  “  lose  ourselves”  when  in 
unfamiliar  surroundings,  and  the  process  of  orientation,  or  “  taking 
our  bearings,”  fails. 


APPARENT  RUPTURES  OF  IDENTITY. 


289 


element  of  constancy.  If  there  is  no  memory,  that  is 
to  say,  if  the  past  is  a  complete  blank,  the  mind 
simply  feels  a  rupture  of  identity  without  any  trans¬ 
formation  of  self.  This  is  our  condition  on  awaking 
from  a  perfectly  forgotten  period  of  sleep,  or  from  a 
perfectly  unconscious  state  (if  such  is  possible)  when 
induced  by  anaesthetics.  Such  gaps  are,  as  we  have 
seen,  easily  filled  up,  and  the  sense  of  identity  restored 
by  a  kind  of  retrospective  “  skipping.”  On  the  other 
hand,  the  confusion  which  arises  from  too  great  and 
violent  a  transformation  of  our  remembered  experiences 
is  much  less  easily  corrected.  As  long  as  the  recollec¬ 
tion  of  the  old  feelings  remains,  and  with  this  the 
sense  of  violent  contrast  between  the  old  and  the  new 
ones,  so  long  will  the  illusion  of  t«o  sundered  selves 
tend  to  recur. 

The  full  development  of  this  process  of  imaginative 
fission  or  cleavage  of  self  is  to  be  met  with  in  mental 
disease.  The  beginnings  of  such  disease,  accompanied 
as  they  commonly  are  with  disturbances  of  bodily 
sensations  and  the  recurring  emotions,  illustrate  in  a 
very  interesting  way  the  dependence  of  the  recog¬ 
nition  of  self  on  a  certain  degree  of  uniformity  in  the 
contents  of  consciousness.  The  patient,  when  first 
aware  of  these  changes,  is  perplexed,  and  often  regards 
the  new  feelings  as  making  up  another  self,  a  foreign 
Tu,  as  distinguished  from  the  familiar  Ego.  And 
sometimes  he  expresses  the  relation  between  the  old 
and  the  new  self  in  fantastic  ways,  as  when  he  imagines 
the  former  to  be  under  the  power  of  some  foreign 
personality. 

When  the  change  is  complete,  the  patient  is  apt  to 


290 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


think  of  his  former  self  as  detached  from  his  present, 
and  of  his  previous  life  as  a  kind  of  unreal  dream  ;  and 
this  fading  away  of  the  past  into  shadowy  unreal  forms 
has,  as  its  result,  a  curious  aberration  iu  the  sense  of 
time.  Thus,  it  is  said  that  a  patient,  after  being  in  an 
asylum  only  one  day,  will  declare  that  he  has  been 
there  a  year,  five  years,  and  even  ten  years.1  This 
confusion  as  to  self  naturally  becomes  the  starting- 
point  of  illusions  of  perception;  the  transformation  of 
self  seeming  to  require  as  its  logical  correlative  (for 
there  is  a  crude  logic  even  in  mental  disease)  a  trans¬ 
formation  of  the  environment.  When  the  disease  is 
fully  developed  under  the  particular  form  of  mono¬ 
mania,  the  recollection  of  the  former  normal  self 
commonly  disappears  altogether,  or  fades  away  into 
a  dim  image  of  some  perfectly  separate  personality.  A 
new  ego  is  now  fully  substituted  for  the  old.  In  other 
and  more  violent  forms  of  disease  (dementia)  the  power 
of  connecting  the  past  and  present  may  disappear 
altogether,  and  nothing  but  the  disjecta  membra  of  an 
ego  remain. 

Enough  has,  perhaps,  been  said  to  show  how  much 
of  uncertainty  and  of  self-deception  enters  into  the  pro¬ 
cesses  of  memory.  This  much-esteemed  faculty,  valu¬ 
able  and  indispensable  though  it  certainly  is,  can  clearly 
lay  no  claim  to  that  absolute  infallibility  which  is  some¬ 
times  said  fo  belong  to  it.  Our  individual  recollection 

1  On  these  disturbances  of  memory  and  self-recognition  in  insanity, 
see  Griesinger,  op.  cit.,  pp.  49-51 ;  also  Ribot,  “  Des  De'sordres  Ge'ne'raux 
de  la  Me'moire,”  in  the  Revue  Philosopliique,  August,  1S80.  It  is 
related  by  Leuret  ( Fragments  Psych,  sur  la  Fulie,  p.  277)  that  a  patient 
spoke  of  his  former  self  as  “  la  personne  de  moi-meme.” 


VALUE  OF  MEMORY. 


291 


left  to  itself,  is  liable  to  a  number  of  illusions  even  witli 
regard  to  fairly  recent  events,  and  in  the  case  of  remote 
ones  it  may  be  said  to  err  habitually  and  uniformly  in 
a  greater  or  less  degree.  To  speak  plainly,  we  can 
never  be  certain  on  the  ground  of  our  personal  recol¬ 
lection  alone  that  a  distant  event  happened  exactly 
in  the  way  and  at  the  time  that  we  suppose.  Nor  does 
there  seem  to  be  any  simple  way  by  mere  reflection 
on  the  contents  of  our  memory  of  distinguishing  what 
kinds  of  recollection  are  likely  to  be  illusory. 

How,  then,  it  may  be  asked,  can  we  ever  be  certain 
that  we  are  faithfully  recalling  the  actual  events  of 
the  past  ?  Given  a  fairly  good,  that  is,  a  cultivated 
memory,  it  may  be  said  that  in  the  case  of  very  recent 
events  a  man  may  feel  certain  that,  when  the  con¬ 
ditions  of  careful  attention  at  the  time  to  what 
really  happened  were  present,  a  distinct  recollection 
is  substantially  correct.  Also  it  is  obvious  that  with 
respect  to  all  repeated  experiences  our  memories  afford 
practically  safe  guides.  When  memory  becomes  the 
basis  of  some  item  of  generalized  knowledge,  as,  for 
example,  of  the  truth  that  the  pain  of  indigestion  has 
followed  a  too  copious  indulgence  in  rich  food,  there  is 
little  room  for  an  error  of  memory  properly  so  called 
On  the  other  hand,  when  an  event  is  not  repeated  in 
our  experience,  but  forms  a  unique  link  in  our  personal 
history,  the  chances  of  error  increase  with  the  distance 
of  the  event ;  and  here  the  best  of  us  will  do  well  to. 
have  resort  to  a  process  of  verification  or,  if  neces¬ 
sary,  of  correction. 

In  order  thus  to  verify  the  utterances  of  memory, 
we  must  look  beyond  our  own  internal  mental  states 


292 


ILLUSIONS  OF  MEMORY. 


to  some  external  facts.  Thus,  the  recollections  of  our 
early  life  may  often  be  tested  by  letters  written  by 
ourselves  or  our  friends  at  the  time,  by  diaries,  and  so 
on.  When  there  is  no  unerring  objective  record  to 
be  found,  we  may  have  recourse  to  the  less  satis¬ 
factory  method  of  comparing  our  recollections  with 
those  of  others.  By  so  doing  we  may  reach  a  rough 
average  recollection  which  shall  at  least  be  free  from 
any  individual  error  corresponding  to  that  of  personal 
equation  in  perception.  But  even  thus  we  cannot  be 
sure  of  eliminating  all  error,  since  there  may  be  a 
cause  of  illusion  acting  on  all  our  minds  alike,  as,  for 
example,  the  extraordinary  nature  of  the  occurrence, 
which  would  pretty  certainly  lead  to  a  common  ex¬ 
aggeration  of  its  magnitude,  etc.,  and  since,  moreover, 
this  process  of  comparing  recollections  affords  an  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  that  reading  back  a  present  preconception 
into  the  past  to  which  reference  has  already  been  made. 

The  result  of  our  inquiry  is  less  alarming  than  it 
looks  at  first  sight.  Knowledge  is  valuable  for  action, 
and  error  is  chiefly  hurtful  in  so  far  as  it  misdirects 
conduct.  Now,  in  a  general  way,  we  do  not  need  to 
act  upon  a  recollection  of  single  remote  events ;  our 
conduct  is  sufficiently  shaped  by  an  accurate  recollec¬ 
tion  of  single  recent  events,  together  with  those  bundles 
of  recollections  of  recurring  events  and  sequences  of 
events  which  constitute  our  knowledge  of  ourselves 
and  our  common  knowledge  of  the  world  about  us. 
Nature  has  done  commendably  well  in  endowing  us 
with  the  means  of  cultivating  our  memories  up  to  this 
point,  and  we  ought  not  to  blame  her  for  not  giving  us 
powers  which  would  only  very  rarely  prove  of  any 
appreciable  practical  service  to  us. 


(  293  ) 


NOTE. 

MOMENTARY  ILLUSIONS  OF  SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS. 

The  account  of  the  apparent  ruptures  in  our 
personal  identity  given  in  this  chapter  may  help  us 
to  understand  the  strange  tendency  to  confuse  self 
with  other  objects  which  occasionally  appears  in 
waking  consciousness  and  in  dreams.  These  errors 
may  be  said  generally  to  be  due  to  the  breaking  up 
of  the  composite  image  of  self  into  its  fragments,  and 
the  regarding  of  certain  of  these  only.  Thus,  the 
momentary  occurrence  of  partial  illusion  in  intense 
sympathy  with  others,  including  that  imaginative  pro¬ 
jection  of  self  into  inanimate  objects,  to  which  refer¬ 
ence  has  already  been  made,  may  be  said  to  depend 
on  exclusive  attention  to  the  subjective  aspect  of  self, 
to  the  total  disregard  of  the  objective  aspect.  In 
other  words,  when  we  thus  momentarily  “lose  our¬ 
selves,”  or  merge  our  own  existence  in  that  of  another 
object,  we  clearly  let  drop  out  of  sight  the  visual  re¬ 
presentation  of  our  own  individual  organism.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  in  dreams  we  double  our  personality, 
or  represent  to  ourselves  an  external  self  which  be¬ 
comes  the  object  of  visual  perception,  it  is  probably 
because  we  isolate  in  imagination  the  objective  aspect 
of  our  personality  from  the  other  and  subjective  aspect. 
It  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  the  several  confusions  of 
6elf  touched  on  in  this  chapter  have  had  something 
to  do  with  the  genesis  of  the  various  historical  theories 
of  a  transformed  existence,  as,  for  example,  the  cele¬ 
brated  doctrine  of  metempsychosis. 


CHAPTER  XL 

ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 

Our  knowledge  is  commonly  said  to  consist  of  two  large 
varieties — Presentative  and  Representative.  Represen¬ 
tative  knowledge,  again,  falls  into  two  chief  divisions. 
The  first  of  these  is  Memory,  which,  though  not  primary 
or  original,  like  presentative  knowledge,  is  still  re¬ 
garded  as  directly  or  intuitively  certain.  The  second 
division  consists  of  all  other  representative  knowledge 
besides  memory,  including,  among  other  varieties,  our 
anticipations  of  the  future,  our  knowledge  of  others’ 
past  experience,  and  our  general  knowledge  about 
things.  There  is  no  one  term  which  exactly  hits  off 
this  large  sphere  of  cognition:  I  propose  to  call  it 
Belief.  I  am  aware  that  this  is  by  no  means  a  perfect 
word  for  my  purpose,  since,  on  the  one  hand,  it  sug¬ 
gests  that  every  form  of  this  knowledge  must  be  less 
certain  than  presentative  or  mnemonic  knowledge, 
which  cannot  be  assumed ;  and  since,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  word  is  so  useful  a  one  in  psychology,  for 
the  purpose  of  marking  off  the  subjective  fact  of 
assurance  in  all  kinds  of  cognition.  Nevertheless, 
I  know  not  what  better  one  I  could  select  in  order  to 


IMMEDIATE  BELIEF. 


295 


make  my  classification  answer  as  closely  as  a  scientific 
treatment  will  allow  to  the  deeply  fixed  distinctions 
of  popular  psychology. 

It  might  at  first  seem  as  if  perception,  introspecs 
tion,  and  memory  must  exhaust  all  that  is  meant  by 
immediate,  or  self-evident,  knowledge,  and  as  if  what  I 
have  here  called  belief  must  be  uniformly  mediate, 
derivate,  or  inferred  knowledge.  The  apprehension 
of  something  now  present  to  the  mind,  externally  or 
internally,  and  the  reapprehension  through  the  pro¬ 
cess  of  memory  of  what  was  once  so  apprehended, 
might  appear  to  be  the  whole  of  what  can  by  any 
stretch  of  language  be  called  direct  cognition  of 
things.  This  at  least  would  seem  to  follow  from  the 
empirical  theory  of  knowledge,  which  regards  per¬ 
ception  and  memory  as  the  ground  or  logical  source 
of  all  other  forms  of  knowledge. 

And  even  if  we  suppose,  with  some  philosophers,  that 
there  are  certain  innate  principles  of  knowledge,  it 
seems  now  to  be  generally  allowed  that  these,  apart 
from  the  particular  facts  of  experience,  are  merely  ab¬ 
stractions  ;  and  that  they  only  develop  into  complete 
knowledge  when  they  receive  some  empirical  content, 
which  must  be  supplied  either  by  present  perception 
or  by  memory.  So  that  in  this  case,  too,  all  definite 
concrete  knowledge  would  seem  to  be  either  presenta- 
tive  cognition,  memory,  or,  lastly,  some  mode  of  in¬ 
ference  from  these. 

A  little  inquiry  into  the  mental  operations  which 
I  here  include  under  the  name  belief  will  show,  how¬ 
ever,  that  they  are  by  no  means  uniformly  processe- 
of  inference.  To  take  the  simplest  form  of  such  know- 


296 


ILLUSIONS  OP  BELIEF. 


ledge,  anticipation  of  some  personal  experience :  this 
may  arise  quite  apart  from  recollection,  as  a  spontaneous 
projection  of  a  mental  image  into  the  future.  A  per¬ 
son  may  feel  “  intuitively  certain  ”  that  something  is 
going  to  happen  to  him  which  does  not  resemble  any¬ 
thing  in  his  past  experience.  Not  only  so  ;  even  when 
tire  expectation  corresponds  to  a  bit  of  past  expe¬ 
rience,  this  source  of  the  expectation  may,  under  cer¬ 
tain  circumstances,  he  altogether  lost  to  view,  and  the 
belief  assume  a  secondarily  automatic  or  intuitive 
character.  Thus,  a  man  may  have  first  entertained  a 
belief  in  the  success  of  some  undertaking  as  the  result 
of  a  rough  process  of  inference,  but  afterwards  go  on 
trusting  when  the  grounds  for  his  confidence  are  wholly 
lost  sight  of. 

This  much  may  suffice  for  the  present  to  show  that 
belief  sometimes  approximates  to  immediate,  or  self- 
evident,  conviction.  How  far  this  is  the  case  will 
come  out  in  the  course  of  our  inquiry  into  its  different 
forms.  This  being  so,  it  will  be  needful  to  include 
in  our  present  study  the  errors  connected  with  the 
process  of  belief  in  so  far  as  they  simulate  the  imme¬ 
diate  instantaneous  form  of  illusion. 

What  I  have  here  called  belief  may  be  roughly 
distinguished  into  simple  and  compound  belief.  By  a 
simple  belief  I  mean  one  which  has  to  do  with  a  single 
event  or  fact.  It  includes  simple  moiles  of  expectation, 
as  well  as  beliefs  in  single  past  facts  not  guaranteed  by 
memory.  A  compound  belief,  on  the  other  hand,  has 
reference  to  a  number  of  events  or  facts.  Thus,  our 
belief  in  the  continued  existence  of  a  particular  object, 
as  well  as  our  convictions  respecting  groups  or  classes 


BELIEF  AS  SIMPLE  AND  COMPOUND. 


297 


of  events,  must  be  regarded  as  compound,  since  they 
can  be  shown  to  include  a  number  of  simple  Kdiefs. 

A.  Simple  Illusory  Belief:  Expectation. 

It  will  be  well  to  begin  our  inquiry  by  examin¬ 
ing  the  errors  connected  with  simple  expectations, 
so  far  as  these  come  under  our  definition  of  illusion. 
And  here,  following  our  usual  practice,  we  may  set 
out  with  a  very  brief  account  of  the  nature  of  the 
intellectual  process  in  its  correct  form.  For  this  pur¬ 
pose  we  shall  do  well  to  take  a  complete  or  definite 
anticipation  of  an  event  as  our  type.1 

The  ability  of  the  mind  to  move  forward,  forecasting 
an  order  of  events  in  time,  is  clearly  very  similar  to  its 
power  of  recalling  events.  Each  depends  on  the 
capability  of  imagination  to  represent  a  sequence  of 
events  or  experiences.  The  difference  between  the 
two  processes  is  that  iu  anticipation  the  imagination 
setting  out  from  the  present  traces  the  succession  of 
experiences  in  their  actual  order,  and  not  in  the 
reverse  order.  It  would  thus  appear  to  be  a  more 
natural  and  easy  process  than  recollection,  and  obser¬ 
vation  bears  out  this  conclusion.  Any  object  present 
to  perception  which  is  associated  with  antecedents  and 
consequents  with  the  same  degree  of  cohesion,  calls  up 
its  consequents  rather  than  its  antecedents.  The 
spectacle  of  the  rising  of  the  sun  carries  the  mind 
much  more  forcibly  forwards  to  the  advancing  morn- 

1  In  the  following  account  of  the  process  of  belief  and  its  errors,  I 
am  going  over  some  of  the  ground  traversed  by  my  essay  on  Belief , 
its  Varieties  and  Conditions  (“Sensation  and  Intuition,”  ch.  iv.).  To 
this  essay  I  must  refer  the  render  for  a  fuller  analysis  of  the  subject 

14 


298 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


ing  than  backwards  to  the  receding  night.  And  there 
is  good  reason  to  suppose  that  in  the  order  of  mental 
development  the  power  of  distinctly  expecting  an 
event  precedes  that  of  distinctly  recollecting  one. 
Thus,  in  the  case  of  the  infant  mind,  as  of  the  animal 
intelligence,  the  presence  of  signs  of  coming  events, 
as  the  preparation  of  food,  seems  to  excite  distinct  and 
vivid  expectation.1 

As  a  mode  of  assurance,  expectation  is  clearly 
marked  off  from  memory,  and  is  not  explainable  by 
means  of  this.  It  is  a  fundamentally  distinct  kind  of 
conviction.  So  far  as  we  are  capable  of  analyzing  it, 
we  may  say  that  its  peculiarity  is  its  essentially  active 
character.  To  expect  a  thing  is  to  have  stirred  the 
active  impulses,  including  the  powers  of  attention ;  it 
is  to  be  on  the  alert  for  it,  to  have  the  attention 
already  focussed  for  it,  and  to  begin  to  rehearse  the 
actions  which  the  actual  happening  of  the  event — for 
example,  the  approach  of  a  welcome  object — would 
excite.  It  thus  stands  in  marked  contrast  to  memory, 
which  is  a  passive  attitude  of  mind,  becoming  active 
only  when  it  gives  rise  to  the  expectation  of  a  recur 
rence  of  the  event.2 

And  now  let  us  pass  to  the  question  whether  ex¬ 
pectation  ever  takes  the  form  of  immediate  knowledge. 

1  For  an  account  of  the  difference  of  mechanism  in  memory  and 
expectation,  see  Taiue,  De  V Intelligence,  2ieme  partio,  livre  premier, 
ch.  ii.  sec.  6. 

2  J.  S.  Mill  distinguishes  expectation  as  a  radically  distinct  mode 
of  belief  from  memory,  but  does  not  bring  out  the  contrast  with 
respect  to  activity  here  emphasized  (James  Mill’s  Analysis  of  the 
Human  Mind,  edited  by  J.  S.  Mill,  p.  411,  etc.).  For  a  fuller  state¬ 
ment  of  my  view  of  the  relation  of  belief  to  action,  as  compared  with 
that  of  Professor  Bain,  see  my  earlier  work. 


EXPECTATION  AND  RECOLLECTION. 


299 


It  may,  perhaps,  be  objected  that  the  anticipation  of 
something  future  cannot  be  knowledge  at  all  in  the 
sense  in  which  the  perception  of  something  present  or 
the  recollection  of  something  past  is  knowledge.  But 
this  objection,  when  examined  closely,  appears  to  be 
frivolous.  Because  the  future  fact  has  not  yet  come 
into  the  sphere  of  actual  existence,  it  is  none  the  less 
the  object  of  a  perfect  assurance.1 

But,  even  if  it  is  conceded  that  expectation  is 
knowledge,  the  objection  may  still  be  urged  that  it 
cannot  be  immediate,  since  it  is  the  very  nature  of 
expectation  to  ground  itself  on  memory.  I  have 
already  hinted  that  this  is  not  the  case,  and  I  shall 
now  try  to  show  that  what  is  called  expectation 
covers  much  that  is  indistinguishable  from  immediate 
intuitive  certainty,  and  consequently  offers  room  for 
an  illusory  form  of  error. 

Let  us  set  out  with  the  simplest  kind  of  expecta¬ 
tion,  the  anticipation  of  something  about  to  happen 
within  the  region  of  our  personal  experience,  and 
similar  to  what  has  happened  before.  And  let  the 
coming  of  the  event  be  first  of  all  suggested  by  some 
present  external  fact  or  sign.  Suppose,  for  example, 
that  the  sky  is  heavy,  the  air  sultry,  and  that  I  have  a 
bad  headache ;  I  confidently  anticipate  a  thunderstorm. 
It  would  commonly  be  said  that  such  an  expectation  is 
a  kind  of  inference  from  the  past.  I  remember  that 
these  appearances  have  been  followed  by  a  thunderstorm 
very  often,  and  I  infer  that  they  will  in  this  new  case 
be  so  followed. 

1  For  some  good  remarks  on  the  logical  aspects  of  future  events  as 
matters  of  fact,  see  Mr.  Venn’s  Logic  of  Chance,  ch.  x. 


300 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


To  this,  however,  it  may  be  replied  that  in  most  cases 
there  is  no  conscious  going  back  to  the  past  at  all.  As 
I  have  already  remarked,  anticipation  is  pretty  certainly 
in  advance  of  memory  in  early  life.  And  even  after 
the  habit  of  passing  from  the  past  to  the  future,  from 
memory  to  expectation,  has  been  formed,  the  number 
of  the  past  repetitions  of  experience  would  prevent  the 
mind’s  clearly  reverting  to  them.  And,  further,  the 
very  force  of  habit  would  tend  to  make  the  transition 
from  memory  to  expectation  more  and  more  rapid, 
automatic,  and  unconscious.  Thus  it  comes  about  that 
all  distinctly  suggested  approaching  events  seem  to  be 
expected  by  a  kind  of  immediate  act  of  belief.  The 
present  signs  call  up  the  representation  of  the  coming 
event  with  all  the  force  of  a  direct  intuition.  At 
least,  it  may  be  said  that  if  a  process  of  inference,  it  is 
one  which  has  the  minimum  degree  of  consciousness. 

It  might  still  be  urged  that  the  mind  passes  from 
the  present  facts  as  signs,  and  so  still  performs  a  kind 
of  reasoning  process.  This  is,  no  doubt,  true,  and 
differentiates  expectation  from  perception,  in  which 
there  is  no  conscious  transition  from  the  presented  to 
the  represented.  Still  I  take  it  that  this  is  only  a 
process  of  reasoning  in  so  far  as  the  sign  is  consciously 
generalized,  and  this  is  certainly  not  true  of  early 
expectations,  or  even  of  any  expectations  in  a  wholly 
uncultivated  mind. 

For  these  reasons  I  think  that  any  errors  involved 
in  such  an  anticipation  may,  without  much  forcing,  be 
brought  under  our  definition  of  illusion.  When  due 
altogether  to  the  immediate  force  of  suggestion  in  a 
present  object  or  event,  and  not  involving  any  con- 


INTUITIVE  EXPECTATION. 


301 

scious  transition  from  past  to  future,  or  from  general 
truth  to  particular  instance,  these  errors  appear  to  me 
to  have  more  of  the  character  of  illusions  than  of  that 
of  fallacies. 

Much  the  same  thing  may  he  said  about  the 
vivid  anticipations  of  a  familiar  kind  of  experience 
called  up  by  a  clear  and  consecutive  verbal  suggestion. 
When  a  man,  even  with  an  apparent  air  of  playfulness, 
tells  me  that  something  is  going  to  happen,  and  gives  a 
consistent  consecutive  account  of  this,  I  have  an  antici¬ 
pation  which  is  not  consciously  grounded  on  any  past 
experience  of  the  value  of  human  testimony  in  general, 
or  of  this  person’s  testimony  in  particular,  but  which  is 
instantaneous  and  quasi-immediate.  Consequently,  any 
error  connected  with  the  mental  act  approximates  to  an 
illusion. 

So  far  I  have  supposed  that  the  anticipated  event 
is  a  recurring  one,  that  is  to  say,  a  kind  of  experience 
which  has  already  become  familiar  to  us.  This,  how¬ 
ever,  holds  good  only  of  a  very  few  of  our  experiences. 
Our  life  changes  as  it  progresses,  both  outwardly  and 
inwardly.  Many  of  our  anticipations,  when  first  formed, 
involve  much  more  than  a  reproduction  of  a  past 
experience,  namely,  a  complex  act  of  constructive 
imagination.  Our  representations  of  these  untried  ex¬ 
periences,  as,  for  example,  those  connected  with  a  new 
set  of  circumstances,  a  new  social  condition,  a  new  mode 
of  occupation,  and  so  on,  are  clearly  at  the  first  far  from 
simple  processes  of  inference  from  the  past.  They  are 
put  together  by  the  aid  of  many  fragmentary  images, 
restored  by  distinct  threads  of  association,  yet  by  a 
process  so  rapid  as  to  appear  like  an  intuition.  Indeed, 


302 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


the  anticipation  of  such  new  experiences  more  often 
resembles  an  instantaneous  imaginative  intuition  than 
a  process  of  conscious  transition  from  old  experiences. 
In  the  case  of  these  expectations,  then,  there  would 
clearly  seem  to  be  room  for  illusion  from  the  first. 

But  even  supposing  that  the  errors  connected 
with  the  first  formation  of  an  expectation  cannot 
strictly  be  called  illusory,  we  may  see  that  such  simple 
expectation  will,  in  certain  cases,  tend  to  grow  into 
something  quite  indistinguishable  from  illusion.  I 
refer  to  expectations  of  remote  events  which  allow  of 
frequent  renewal.  Even  supposing  the  expectation  to 
have  originated  from  some  rational  source,  as  from  a 
conscious  inference  from  past  experience,  or  from  the 
acceptance  of  somebody’s  statement,  the  very  habit  of 
cherishing  the  anticipation  tends  to  invest  it  with  an 
automatic  self-sufficient  character.  To  all  intents  and 
purposes  the  prevision  becomes  intuitive,  by  which 
I  mean  that  the  mind  is  at  the  time  immediately  cer¬ 
tain  that  something  is  going  to  happen,  without  need¬ 
ing  to  fall  back  on  memory  or  reflection.  This  being 
so,  whenever  the  initial  process  of  inference  or  quasi¬ 
inference  happens  to  have  been  bad,  an  illusory  expecta¬ 
tion  may  arise.  In  other  words,  the  force  of  repetition 
and  habit  tends  to  harden  what  may,  in  its  initial 
form,  have  resembled  a  kind  of  fallacy  into  an  illusion. 

And  now  let  us  proceed  further.  When  a  permanent 
expectation  is  thus  formed,  there  arises  the  possibility 
of  processes  which  favour  illusion  precisely  analogous 
to  those  which  we  have  studied  in  the  case  of  memory. 

In  the  first  place,  the  habit  of  imagining  a  future 
event  is  attended  with  a  considerable  amount  of 


PERMANENT  EXPECTATIONS. 


303 


illusion  as  to  time  or  remoteness.  After  what  has 
been  said  respecting  the  conditions  of  such  error  in 
the  case  of  memory,  a  very  few  words  will  suffice 
here. 

It  is  clear,  then,  in  the  fi  st  place,  that  the  mind 
will  tend  to  shorten  any  period  of  future  time,  and  so 
to  antedate,  so  to  speak,  a  given  event,  in  so  far  as  the 
imagination  is  able  clearly  and  easily  to  run  over  its 
probable  experiences.  From  this  it  follows  that  re¬ 
peated  forecastings  of  series  of  events,  by  facilitating 
the  imaginative  process,  tend  to  beget  an  illusory 
appearance  of  contraction  in  the  time  anticipated 
Moreover,  since  in  anticipation  so  much  of  each 
division  of  the  future  time-line  is  unknown,  it  is 
obviously  easy  for  the  expectant  imagination  to  skip 
over  long  intervals,  and  so  to  bring  together  widely 
remote  events. 

In  addition  to  this  general  error,  there  are  more 
special  errors.  As  in  the  case  of  recollection,  vividness 
of  mental  image  suggests  propinquity ;  and  accord¬ 
ingly,  all  vivid  anticipations,  to  whatever  cause  the 
vividness  may  be  owing,  whether  to  powerful  sugges¬ 
tion  on  the  part  of  external  objects,  to  verbal  suggestion, 
or  to  spontaneous  imagination  and  feeling,  are  apt  to 
represent  their  objects  as  too  near. 

It  follows  that  an  event  intensely  longed  for,  in  so, 
far  as  the  imagination  is  busy  in  representing  it,  will 
seem  to  approach  the  present.  At  the  same  time,  as 
we  have  seen,  an  event  much  longed  for  commonly 
appears  to  be  a  great  while  coming,  the  explanation 
being  that  there  is  a  continually  renewed  contradiction 
between  anticipation  and  perception.  The  self-adjust- 


304 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


ment  of  tlie  mind  in  the  attitude  of  expectant  attention 
proves  again  and  again  to  be  vain  and  futile,  and  it  is 
this  fact  which  brings  home  to  it  the  slowness  of  the 
sequences  of  perceived  fact,  as  compared  with  the 
rapidity  of  the  sequences  of  imagination. 

AVhen  speaking  of  the  retrospective  estimate  of 
time,  I  observed  that  the  apparent  distance  of  an  event 
depends  on  our  representation  of  the  intervening 
time-segment.  And  the  same  remark  applies  to  the 
prospective  estimate.  Thus,  an  occurrence  which  we 
expect  to  happen  next  week  will  seem  specially  near  if 
we  know  little  or  nothing  of  the  contents  of  the  inter¬ 
vening  space,  for  in  this  case  the  imagination  does 
not  project  the  experience  behind  a  number  of  other 
distinctly  represented  events. 

Finally,  it  is  to  be  remarked  that  the  prospective 
appreciation  of  any  duration  will  tend  to  err  relatively 
by  way  of  excess,  where  the  time  is  exceptionally  filled 
out  with  clearly  expected  and  deeply  interesting  ex¬ 
periences.  To  the  imagination  of  the  child,  a  holiday, 
filled  with  new  experiences,  appears  to  be  boundless. 

Thus  far  I  have  assumed  that  the  date  of  the 
future  event  is  a  matter  which  might  be  known.  It  is, 
however,  obvious,  from  the  very  nature  of  knowledge 
with  respect  to  the  future,  that  we  may  sometimes  be 
certain  of  a  thing  happening  to  us  without  knowing 
with  any  degree  of  definiteness  when  it  will  happen. 
In  the  case  of  these  temporally  undefined  expectations, 
the  law  already  expounded  holds  good  that  all  vividness 
of  representation  tends  to  lend  the  things  represented 
an  appearance  of  approaching  events.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  are  some  events,  such  as  our  own  death, 


MISREPRESENTATION  OF  FUTURE. 


305 


which  our  instinctive  feelings  tend  to  banish  to  a  region 
so  remote  as  hardly  to  be  realized  at  all. 

So  much  with  respect  to  errors  in  the  localizing 
of  future  events. 

In  the  second  place,  a  habit  of  imagining  a  future 
event  or  group  of  events  will  give  play  to  those 
forces  which  tend  to  transform  a  mental  image.  In 
other  words,  the  habitual  indulgence  of  a  certain 
anticipation  tends  to  an  illusory  view,  not  only  of  the 
“  when  ?  ”  but  also  of  the  “  how  ?  ”  of  the  future  event. 
These  transformations,  due  to  subtle  processes  of 
emotion  and  intellect,  and  reflecting  the  present  habits 
of  these,  exactly  resemble  those  by  which  a  remem¬ 
bered  event  becomes  gradually  transformed.  Thus,  we 
carry  on  our  present  habits  of  thought  and  feeling  into 
the  remote  future,  foolishly  imagining  that  at  a  distant 
period  of  life,  or  in  greatly  altered  circumstances,  we 
shall  desire  and  aim  at  the  same  things  as  now  in  our 
existing  circumstances.  In  close  connection  with  this 
forward  projection  of  our  present  selves,  there  betrays 
itself  a  tendency  to  look  on  future  events  as  answer¬ 
ing  to  our  present  desires  and  aspirations.  In  this 
way,  we  are  wont  to  soften,  beautify,  and  idealize  the 
future,  marking  it  off  from  the  hard  matter-of-fact 
present. 

The  less  like  the  future  experience  to  our  past  expe¬ 
rience,  or  the  more  remote  the  time  anticipated,  the 
greater  the  scope  for  such  imaginative  transformation. 
And  from  this  stage  of  fanciful  transformation  of  a 
future  reality  to  the  complete  imaginative  creation  of 
such  a  reality,  the  step  is  but  a  small  one.  Here  we 
reach  the  full  development  of  illusory  expectation, 


306 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


that  which  corresponds  to  hallucination  in  the  region 
of  sense-perception. 

In  order  to  understand  these  extreme  forms  of 
illusory  expectation,  it  will  be  necessary  to  say  some¬ 
thing  more  about  the  relation  of  imagination  to  antici¬ 
pation  in  general.  There  are,  I  conceive,  good  reasons 
for  saying  that  any  kind  of  vivid  imagination  tends 
to  pass  into  a  semblance  of  an  expectation  of  a  coming 
personal  experience,  or  an  event  that  is  about  to  happen 
within  the  sphere  of  our  own  observation.  It  has  long 
been  recognized  by  writers,  among  whom  I  may  men¬ 
tion  Dngald  Stewart,  that  to  distinctly  imagine  an 
event  or  object  is  to  feel  for  the  moment  a  degree  of 
belief  in  the  corresponding  reality.  Now,  I  have  already 
said  that  expectation  is  probably  a  more  natural  and 
an  earlier  developed  state  of  mind  than  memory.  And 
so  it  seems  probable  that  any  mental  image  which 
happens  to  take  hold  on  the  mind,  if  not  recognized 
as  one  of  memory,  or  as  corresponding  to  a  fact  in  some¬ 
body  else’s  experience,  naturally  assumes  the  form  of 
an  expectation  of  a  personal  experience.  The  force  of 
the  expectation  will  vary  in  general  as  the  vividness 
and  persistence  of  the  mental  image.  Moreover,  it 
follows,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  this  force  of 
imagination  will  determine  what  little  time-character 
we  ever  give  to  these  wholly  ungrounded  illusions. 

We  see,  then,  that  any  process  of  spontaneous  imagi¬ 
nation  will  tend  to  beget  some  degree  of  illusory  expec¬ 
tation.  And  among  the  agencies  by  which  such  un¬ 
grounded  imagination  arises,  the  promptings  of  feeling 
play  the  most  conspicuous  part.  A  present  emotional 
excitement  may  give  to  an  imaginative  anticipation, 


IMAGINATION  AND  EXPECTATION. 


307 


such  as  that  of  the  prophetic  enthusiast,  a  reality  which 
approximates  to  that  of  an  actually  perceived  object. 
And  even  where  this  force  of  excitement  is  wanting,  a 
gentle  impulse  of  feeling  may  suffice  to  beget  an  as¬ 
surance  of  a  distant  reality.  The  unknown  recesses  of 
the  remote  future  offer,  indeed,  the  field  in  which  the 
illusory  impulses  of  our  emotional  nature  have  their 
richest  harvest. 

‘‘Thus,  from  afar,  each  dim  discover’d  scene 
More  pleasing  seems  than  all  the  past  hath  been ; 

And  every  form,  that  Fancy  can  lepair 
From  dark  oblivion,  glows  divinely  there.” 

The  recurring  emotions,  the  ruling  aspirations,  find 
objects  for  themselves  in  this  veiled  region.  Feelings 
too  shy  to  burst  forth  in  unseemly  anticipation  of  the 
immediate  future,  modestly  satisfy  themselves  with 
this  remote  prospect  of  satisfaction.  And  thus,  there 
arises  the  half-touching,  half-amusing  spectacle  of  men 
and  women  continually  renewing  illusory  hopes,  and 
continually  pushing  the  date  of  their  realization  further 
on  as  time  progresses  and  brings  no  actual  fruition. 

So  far  I  have  spoken  of  such  expectations  as  refer  to 
future  personal  experience  only.  Growing  individual 
experience  and  the  enlargement  of  this  by  the  addition 
of  social  experience  enable  us  to  frame  a  number  of 
other  beliefs  more  or  less  similar  to  the  simple  expecta¬ 
tions  just  dealt  with.  Thus,  for  example,  I  can  forecast 
with  confidence  events  w'hich  will  occur  in  the  lives  of 
others,  and  which  I  shall  not  even  witness;  or  again, 
1  may  even  succeed  in  dimly  descrying  events,  such 
as  political  changes  or  scientific  discoveries,  which 
will  happen  after  my  personal  experience  is  at  an  end. 


808 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


Once  more,  I  can  believe  in  something  going  on 
now  at  some  distant  and  even  inaccessible  point  of  the 
universe,  and  this  appears  to  involve  a  conditional 
expectation,  and  to  mean  that  I  am  certain  that  I  or 
anybody  else  would  see  the  phenomenon,  if  we  could 
at  this  moment  be  transported  to  the  spot. 

All  such  previsions  are  supposed  to  be  formed  by  a 
process  of  inference  from  personal  experience,  including 
the  trustworthiness  of  testimony.  Even  allowing,  how¬ 
ever,  that  this  was  so  in  the  first  stages  of  the  belief, 
it  is  plain  that,  by  dint  of  frequent  renewal,  the  ex¬ 
pectation  would  soon  cease  to  be  a  process  of  inference, 
and  acquire  an  apparently  self-evident  character.  This 
being  so,  if  the  expectation  is  not  adequately  grounded 
to  start  with,  it  is  very  likely  to  develop  into  an  illusion. 
And  it  is  to  be  added  that  these  permanent  anticipa¬ 
tions  may  have  their  origin  much  more  in  our  own 
wishes  or  emotional  promptings  than  in  fact  and  ex¬ 
perience.  The  mind  undisciplined  by  scientific  training 
is  wont  to  entertain  numerous  beliefs  of  this  sort  re¬ 
specting  what  is  now  going  on  in  unvisited  parts  of  the 
world,  or  what  will  happen  hereafter  in  the  distant 
future.  The  remote,  and  therefore  obscure,  in  space 
and  in  time  has  always  been  the  favourite  region  for 
the  projection  of  pleasant  fancies. 

Once  more,  besides  these  oblique  kinds  of  expecta¬ 
tion,  I  may  form  other  seemingly  simple  beliefs,  to 
which  the  term  expectation  seems  less  clearly  applic¬ 
able.  Thus,  on  waking  in  the  morning  and  finding 
the  ground  covered  with  snow,  my  imagination  moves 


QUASI-EXPECTATIONS. 


309 


backwards,  as  in  the  process  of  memory,  and  realizes 
the  spectacle  of  the  softly  falling  snow-flakes  in  the 
hours  of  the  night.  The  oral  communication  of  others’ 
experience,  including  the  traditions  of  the  race,  enables 
me  to  set  out  from  any  present  point  of  time,  and 
reconstruct  complex  chains  of  experience  of  vast 
length  lying  beyond  the  bounds  of  my  own  personal 
recollection. 

I  need  not  here  discuss  what  the  exact  nature  of 
such  beliefs  is.  J.  S.  Mill  identifies  them  with  ex¬ 
pectations.  Thus,  according  to  him,  my  belief  in  the 
nocturnal  snowstorm  is  the  assurance  that  I  should 
have  seen  it  had  I  waited  up  during  the  night.  So  my 
belief  in  Cicero’s  oratory  resolves  itself  into  the  con¬ 
viction  that  I  should  have  heard  Cicero  under  certain 
conditions  of  time  and  place,  which  is  identical  with 
my  expectation  that  I  shall  hear  a  certain  speaker 
to-morrow  if  I  go  to  the  House  of  Commons.1  How¬ 
ever  this  be,  the  thing  to  note  is  that  such  retrospective 
beliefs,  when  once  formed,  tend  to  approximate  in 
character  to  recollections.  This  is  true  even  of  new 
beliefs  in  recent  events  directly  made  known  by  present 
objective  consequences  or  signs,  as  the  snowstorm. 
For  in  this  case  there  is  commonly  no  conscious 
comparison  of  the  present  signs  with  previously  known 
signs,  but  merely  a  direct  quasi-mnemonic  passage  of 
mind  from  the  present  fact  to  its  antecedent.  And 
it  is  still  more  true  of  long-entertained  retrospective 
beliefs.  When,  for  example,  the  original  grounds  of  an 
historical  hypothesis  are  lost  sight  of,  and  after  the 

1  James  Mill’s  Analysis  of  the  Human  Mind,  elitcd  by  J.  S.  Mill, 
vol.  i.  p.  414,  et  seq. 


310 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


belief  lias  hardened  and  solidified  by  time,  it  conies  to 
look  much  more  like  a  recollection  than  an  expectation. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  have  seen,  when  studying  the 
illusions  of  memory,  that  our  personal  experience  does 
become  confused  with  that  of  others.  And  one  may 
say  that  all  long-cherished  retrospective  beliefs  tend 
to  become  assimilated  to  recollections. 

Here  then,  again,  there  seems  to  be  room  for 
illusion  to  arise.  Even  in  the  case  of  a  recent  past 
event,  directly  made  known  by  present  objective  signs, 
the  mind  is  liable  to  err  just  as  in  the  case  of  fore¬ 
casting  an  immediately  approaching  event.  And  such 
error  has  all  the  force  of  an  illusion  :  its  contradiction  is 
almost  as  great  a  shock  as  that  of  a  recollection.  When, 
for  example,  I  enter  my  house,  and  see  a  friend’s  card 
lying  on  the  table,  I  so  vividly  represent  to  myself  the 
recent  call  of  my  friend,  that  when  I  learn  the  card  is 
an  old  one  which  has  accidentally  been  put  on  the  table, 
I  experience  a  sense  of  disillusion  very  similar  to  that 
which  attends  a  contradicted  perception.  The  early 
crude  stages  of  physical  science  abundantly  illustrate 
the  genesis  of  such  illusions. 

It  may  be  added  that  if  there  be  any  feeling  present 
in  the  mind  at  the  time,  the  barest  suggestion  of  some¬ 
thing  having  happened  will  suffice  to  produce  the 
immediate  assurance.  Thus,  an  angry  person  is  apt  to 
hastily  accuse  another  of  having  done  certain  things  on 
next  to  no  evidence.  The  love  of  the  marvellous  seems 
to  have  played  a  conspicuous  part  in  building  up  and 
sustaining  the  fanciful  hypotheses  which  mark  the 
dawn  of  physical  science. 

Verbal  suggestion  is  a  common  mode  of  produc 


QUASI- RECOLLECTIONS. 


311 


ing  this  semblance  of  a  recollected  event.  By  means 
of  the  narrative  style,  it  vividly  suggests  the  idea 
that  the  events  described  belong  to  the  past,  and  ex¬ 
cites  the  imagination  to  a  retrospective  construction 
of  them  as  though  they  were  remembered  events. 
Hence  the  power  of  works  of  fiction  on  the  ordinary 
mind.  Even  when  there  is  no  approach  to  an  illusion 
of  perception,  or  to  one  of  memory  in  the  strict  sense, 
the  reading  of  a  work  of  fiction  begets  at  the  moment 
a  retrospective  belief  that  has  a  certain  resemblance  to 
a  recollection. 

All  such  illusions  as  those  just  illustrated,  if  not 
afterwards  corrected,  tend  to  harden  into  yet  more  dis¬ 
tinctly  “intuitive”  errors.  Thus,  for  example,  one  of 
the  crude  geological  hypotheses,  of  which  Sir  Charles 
Lyell  tells  us,1  would,  by  the  mere  fact  of  being  kept 
before  the  mind,  tend  to  petrify  into  a  hard  fixed  be¬ 
lief.  And  this  process  of  hardening  is  seen  strikingly 
illustrated  in  the  case  of  traditional  errors,  especially 
when  these  fall  in  with  our  own  emotional  propensities. 
Our  habitual  representations  of  the  remote  historical 
past  are  liable  to  much  the  same  kind  of  error  as  our 
recollections  of  early  personal  experience.  The  wrong 
statements  of  others  and  the  promptings  of  our  own 
fancies  may  lead  in  the  first  instance  to  a  filling  up 
of  the  remote  past  with  purely  imaginary  shapes. 
Afterwards  the  particular  origin  of  the  belief  is  for¬ 
gotten,  and  the  assurance  assumes  the  aspect  of  a 
perfectly  intuitive  conviction.  The  hoary  traditional 
myths  respecting  the  golden  age,  and  so  on,  and  the 


Principles  of  Geology,  ch.  iii. 


312 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


persistent  errors  of  historians  under  the  sway  of  a  strong 
emotional  bias,  illustrate  such  illusions. 

So  much  as  to  simple  illusions  of  belief,  or  such 
as  involve  single  representations  only.  Let  us  now 
pass  to  compound  illusions,  which  involve  a  complex 
group  of  representations. 

B.  Compound  Illusory  Belief. 

A  familiar  example  of  a  compound  belief  is  the 
belief  in  a  permanent  or  persistent  individual  object 
of  a  certain  character.  Such  an  idea,  whatever  its 
whole  meaning  may  be — and  this  is  a  disputed  point 
in  philosophy — certainly  seems  to  include  a  number 
of  particular  representations,  corresponding  to  direct 
personal  recollections,  to  the  recollections  of  others, 
and  to  numerous  anticipations  of  ourselves  and  of 
others.  And  if  the  object  be  a  living  creature  endowed 
with  feelings,  our  idea  of  it  will  contain,  in  addition 
to  these  represented  perceptions  of  ourselves  or  of 
others,  a  series  of  represented  insights,  namely,  such 
as  correspond  to  the  inner  experience  of  the  being, 
so  far  as  this  is  known  or  imagined. 

It  would  thus  seem  that  the  idea  which  we 
habitually  carry  about  with  us  respecting  a  complex 
individual  object  is  a  very  composite  idea.  In  order 
to  see  this  more  fully,  let  us  inquire  into  what  is 
meant  by  our  belief  in  a  person.  My  idea  of1  a  par¬ 
ticular  friend  contains,  among  other  things,  numbers 
of  vague  representations  of  his  habitual  modes  of 
feeling  and  acting,  and  numbers  of  still  more  vague 
expectations  of  how  ne  will  or  might  feel  and  act  in 
certain  cir  umstances. 


IDEAS  OF  PERMANENT  THINGS. 


313 


Now,  it  is  plain  that  such  a  composite  idea  must 
have  been  a  very  slow  growth,  involving,  in  certain 
stages  of  its  formation,  numerous  processes  of  inference 
or  quasi-inference  from  the  past  to  the  future.  But  in 
process  of  time  these  elements  fuse  inseparably  :  the 
directly  known  and  the  inferred  no  longer  stand  apart 
in  my  mind ;  my  whole  conception  of  the  individual 
as  he  has  been,  is,  and  will  be,  seems  one  indivisible 
cognition ;  and  this  cognition  is  so  firmly  fixed  and 
presents  itself  so  instantaneously  to  the  mind  when  I 
think  of  the  object,  that  it  has  all  the  appearance  of 
an  intuitive  conviction. 

If  this  is  a  fairly  accurate  description  of  the  struc¬ 
ture  of  these  compound  representations  and  of  their 
attendant  beliefs,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  many  openings 
for  error  they  cover.  To  begin  with,  my  representation 
of  so  complex  a  thing  as  a  concrete  personality  must 
always  be  exceedingly  inadequate  and  fragmentary. 
I  see  only  a  few  facets  of  the  person’s  many-sided 
mind  and  character.  And  yet,  in  general,  I  am  not 
aware  of  this,  but  habitually  identify  my  representa¬ 
tion  with  the  totality  of  the  object. 

More  than  this,  a  little  attention  to  the  process  by 
which  these  compound  beliefs  arise  will  disclose  the 
fact  that  this  apparently  adequate  representation  of 
another  has  arisen  in  part  by  other  than  logical  pro¬ 
cesses.  If  the  blending  of  memory  and  expectation 
were  simply  a  mingling  of  facts  with  correct  inferences 
from  these,  it  might  not  greatly  matter ;  but  it  is 
something  very  different  from  this.  Not  only  has 
our  direct  observation  of  the  person  been  very  limited, 
even  that  which  we  have  been  able  to  see  has  not 


311 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


been  perfectly  mirrored  in  our  memory.  It  has  already 
been  remarked  that  recollection  is  a  selective  process, 
and  this  truth  is  strikingly  illustrated  iu  the  growth 
of  our  enduring  representations  of  things.  What 
stamps  itself  on  my  memory  is  what  surprised  me  or 
what  deeply  interested  me  at  the  moment.  And  then 
there  are  all  the  risks  of  mnemonic  illusion  to  be 
taken  into  account  as  well.  Thus,  my  idea  of  a  person, 
so  far  even  as  it  is  built  up  on  a  basis  of  direct 
personal  recollection,  is  essentially  a  fragmentary  and 
to  some  extent  a  misleading  representation. 

Nor  is  this  all.  My  habitual  idea  of  a  person  is 
a  resultant  of  forces  of  memory  conjoined  with  other 
forces.  Among  these  are  to  be  reckoned  the  in¬ 
fluence  of  illusory  perception  or  insight,  my  own  and 
that  of  others.  The  amount  of  misinterpretation  of 
the  words  and  actions  of  a  single  human  being  during 
the  course  of  a  long  acquaintance  must  be  very  con¬ 
siderable.  To  these  must  be  added  the  effect  of  erro¬ 
neous  single  expectations  and  reconstructions  of  past 
experiences,  in  so  far  as  these  have  not  been  dis¬ 
tinctly  contradicted  and  dissipated.  All  these  errors, 
connected  with  single  acts  of  observing  or  inferring 
the  feelings  and  doings  of  another,  have  their  effect 
in  distorting  the  subsequent  total  representation  of 
the  person. 

Finally,  we  must  include  a  more  distinct  ingredient 
of  active  illusion,  namely,  all  the  complex  effects  of 
the  activity  of  imagination  as  led,  not  by  fact  and  ex¬ 
perience,  but  by  feeling  and  desire.  Our  permanent 
idea  of  another  reflects  all  that  we  have  fondly 
imagined  the  person  capable  of  doing,  and  thus  is 


OUR  REPRESENTATIONS  OF  OTHERS. 


315 


made  up  of  an  ideal  as  well  as  a  real  actually  known 
personality.  And  this  result  of  spontaneous  imagina¬ 
tion  must  be  taken  to  include  the  ideals  entertained 
by  others  who  are  likely  to  have  influenced  us  by  their 
beliefs.1 

Enough  has  probably  been  said  to  show  how  im¬ 
mensely  improbable  it  is  that  our  permanent  cognition 
of  so  complex  an  object  as  a  particular  human  being 
should  be  at  all  an  accurate  representation  of  the 
reality,  how  much  of  the  erroneous  is  certain  to  get 
mixed  up  with  the  true.  And  this  being  so,  we  may 
say  that  our  apparently  simple  direct  cognition  of  a 
given  person,  our  assurance  of  what  he  is  and  will 
continue  to  be,  is  to  some  extent  illusory. 

Illusion  of  Self-Esteem. 

Let  us  now  pass  to  another  case  of  compound 
representation,  where  the  illusory  element  is  still  more 
striking.  I  refer  to  the  idea  of  self  which  each  of 
us  habitually  carries  about  with  him.  Every  man’s 
opinion  of  himself,  as  a  whole,  is  a  very  complex 
mental  product,  in  which  facts  known  by  intro¬ 
spection  no  doubt  play  a  part,  but  probably  only  a 
very  subordinate  part.  It  is  obvious,  from  what  has 
been  said  about  the  structure  of  our  habitual  repre¬ 
sentations  of  other  individuals,  that  our  ordinary 
representation  of  ourselves  will  be  tinged  with  that 
mass  of  error  which  we  have  found  to  be  connected 

1  To  malce  this  rough  analysis  more  complete,  I  ought,  perhaps,  to 
include  tlie  effect  of  all  the  errors  of  introspection,  memory,  and  spon¬ 
taneous  belief,  into  which  the  person  himself  falls,  in  so  far  as  thev 
communicate  themselves  to  others. 


316 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


with  single  acts  of  introspection,  recollections  of  past 
personal  experience,  and  illusory  single  expectations  of 
future  personal  experiences.  How  large  an  opening 
for  erroneous  conviction  here  presents  itself  can  only 
be  understood  by  a  reference  to  certain  deeply  fixed 
impulses  and  feelings  connected  with  the  very  con¬ 
sciousness  of  self,  and  favouring  what  I  have  marked 
off  as  active  illusion.  I  shall  try  to  show  very  briefly 
that  each  man’s  intuitive  persuasion  of  his  own  powers, 
gifts,  or  importance — in  brief,  of  his  own  particular 
value,  contains,  from  the  first,  a  palpable  ingredient  of 
active  illusion. 

Most  persons,  one  supposes,  have  with  more  or  less 
distinct  consciousness  framed  a  notion  of  their  own 
value,  if  not  to  the  world  generally,  at  least  to  them¬ 
selves.  And  this  notion,  however  undefined  it  may 
be,  is  held  to  with  a  singular  tenacity  of  belief.  The 
greater  part  of  mankind,  indeed,  seem  never  to  enter¬ 
tain  the  question  whether  they  really  possess  points  of 
excellence.  They  assume  it  as  a  matter  perfectly  self- 
evident,  and  appear  to  believe  in  their  vaguely  con¬ 
ceived  worth  on  the  same  immediate  testimony  of 
consciousness  by  which  they  assure  themselves  of  their 
personal  existence.  Indeed,  the  conviction  of  personal 
consequence  may  be  said  to  be  a  constant  factor  in 
most  men’s  consciousness.  However  restrained  by  the 
rules  of  polite  intercourse,  it  betrays  its  existence  and 
its  energy  in  innumerable  ways.  It  displays  itself 
most  triumphantly  when  the  mind  is  suddenly  isolated 
from  other  minds,  when  other  men  unite  in  heaping 
neglect  and  contempt  on  the  believer’s  head.  In  these 
moments  he  proves  an  almost  heroic  strength  of  con- 


OUR  REPRESENTATIONS  OF  OURSELVES.  317 


fidenc-e,  believing  in  himself  and  in  his  claims  to  careful 
consideration  when  all  his  acquaintance  are  practically 
avowing  their  disbelief. 

The  intensity  of  this  belief  in  personal  value  may 
be  observed  in  very  different  forms.  The  young- 
woman  who,  quite  independently  of  others’  opinion, 
and  even  in  defiance  of  it,  cherishes  a  conviction  that 
her  external  attractions  have  a  considerable  value ;  the 
young  man  who,  in  the  face  of  general  indifference, 
persists  in  his  habit  of  voluble  talk  on  the  supposition 
that  he  is  conferring  on  his  fellow-creatures  the  fruits 
of  profound  wisdom ;  and  the  man  of  years  whose 
opinion  of  his  own  social  importance  and  moral  worth 
is  quite  disproportionate  to  the  estimation  which  others 
form  of  his  claims — these  alike  illustrate  the  force  and 
pertinacity  of  t lie  belief. 

There  are,  no  doubt,  many  exceptions  to  this  form 
of  self-appreciation.  In  certain  robust  minds,  but 
little  given  to  self-reflection,  the  idea  of  personal  value 
rarely  occurs.  And  then  there  are  timid,  sensitive 
natures  that  betray  a  tendency  to  self-distrust  of  all 
kinds,  and  to  an  undue  depreciation  of  personal  merit. 
Yet  even  here  traces  of  an  impulse  to  think  well  of 
self  will  appear  to  the  attentive  eye,  and  one  can 
generally  recognize  that  this  impulse  is  only  kept 
down  by  some  other  stronger  force,  as,  for  example, 
extreme  sensitiveness  to  the  judgment  of  others,  great 
conscientiousness,  and  so  on.  And  however  this  be,  it 
will  be  allowed  that  the  average  man  rates  himself 
highly. 

It  is  to  be  noticed  that  this  persuasion  of  personal 
value  or  excellence  is,  in  common,  very  vague.  A  man 


318 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


may  have  a  general  sense  of  his  own  importance  with¬ 
out  in  the  least  being  able  to  say  wherein  exactly  his 
superiority  lies.  Or,  to  put  it  another  way,  he  may 
have  a  strong  conviction  that  he  stands  high  in  the 
scale  of  morally  deserving  persons,  and  yet  be  unable 
to  define  his  position  more  nearly.  Commonly,  the 
conviction  seems  to  he  only  definable  as  an  assurance 
of  a  superlative  of  which  the  positive  and  comparative 
are  suppressed.  At  most,  his  idea  of  his  moral  altitude 
resolves  itself  into  the  proposition,  “  I  am  a  good  deal 
better  than  Mr.  A.  or  Mr.  B.”  Now,  it  is  plain  that  in 
these  intuitive  judgments  on  his  own  excellence,  the 
man  is  making  an  assertion  with  respect,  not  only  to 
inner  subjective  feelings  which  he  only  can  be  supposed 
to  know  immediately,  but  also  to  external  objective 
facts  which  are  patent  to  others,  namely,  to  certain 
active  tendencies  and  capabilities,  to  the  direction  of 
external  conduct  in  certain  lines.1  Hence,  if  the 
assertion  is  erroneous,  it  will  be  in  plain  contradiction 
to  others’  perceptions  of  his  powers  or  moral  endow¬ 
ments.  And  this  is  what  we  actually  find.  A  man’s 
self-esteem,  in  a  large  preponderance  of  cases,  is  plainly 
in  excess  of  others’  esteem  of  him.  What  the  man 
conceives  himself  to  be  differs  widely  from  what  others 
conceive  him  to  be. 

“  Oh  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gie  us, 

To  see  oursels  as  others  see  us  I  ” 

Now,  whence  comes  this  large  and  approximately 
uniform  discrepancy  between  our  self-esteem  and 

1  In  the  case  of  a  vain  woman  thinking  herself  much  more  pretty 
than  others  think  her,  the  error  is  still  more  obviously  one  connected 
with  a  belief  in  objective  fact. 


ILLUSION  OF  SELF-ESTEEM. 


319 


others’  esteem  of  us?  By  trying  to  answer  this 
question  we  shall  come  to  understand  still  better  the 
processes  by  which  the  most  powerful  forms  of  illusion 
are  generated. 

It  is,  I  think,  a  matter  of  every-day  observation 
that  children  manifest  an  apparently  instinctive  dis¬ 
position  to  magnify  self  as  soon  as  the  vaguest  idea  of 
self  is  reached.  It  is  very  hard  to  define  this  feeling 
more  precisely  than  by  terming  it  a  rudimentary  sense 
of  personal  importance.  It  may  show  itself  in  very 
different  ways,  taking  now  a  more  active  form,  as  an 
impulse  of  self-assertion,  and  a  desire  to  enforce  one’s 
own  will  to  the  suppression  of  others’  Mills,  and  at 
another  time  wearing  the  appearance  of  a  passive 
emotion,  an  elementary  form  of  amour  propre.  And  it 
is  this  feeling  which  forms  the  germ  of  the  self-estima¬ 
tion  of  adults.  For  in  truth  all  attribution  of  value 
involves  an  element  of  feeling,  as  respect,  and  of  active 
desire,  and  the  ascription  of  value  to  one’s  self  is  in 
its  simplest  form  merely  the  expression  of  this  state 
of  mind. 

But  how  is  it,  it  may  be  asked,  that  this  feeling 
shows  itself  instinctively  as  soon  as  the  idea  of  self 
begins  to  arise  in  consciousness  ?  The  answer  to  this 
question  is  to  be  found,  I  imagine,  in  the  general  laws 
of  mental  development.  All  practical  judgments  like 
that  of  self-estimation  are  based  on  some  feeling  which 
is  developed  before  it ;  and,  again,  the  feeling  itself  is 
based  on  some  instinctive  action  which,  in  like  manner, 
is  earlier  than  the  feeling.  Thus,  for  example,  an 
Englishman’s  judgment  that  his  native  country  is  of 
paramount  value  springs  out  of  a  long-existent  senti- 


•‘320 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


meat  of  patriotism,  which  sentiment  again  may  be 
regarded  as  having  slowly  grown  up  about  the  half- 
blindly  followed  habit  of  defending  and  furthering 
the  interests  of  one’s  nation  or  tribe.  In  a  similar  way, 
one  suspects,  the  feeling  of  personal  worth,  with  its 
accompanying  judgment,  is  a  product  of  a  long  process 
of  instinctive  action. 

What  this  action  is  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to 
remind  the  reader.  Every  living  organism  strives,  or 
acts  as  if  it  consciously  strove,  to  maintain  its  life 
and  promote  its  well-being.  The  actions  of  plants 
are  clearly  related  to  the  needs  of  a  prosperous  exist¬ 
ence,  individual  first  and  serial  afterwards.  The  move¬ 
ments  of  the  lower  animals  have  the  same  end.  Thus, 
on  the  supposition  that  man  has  been  slowly  evolved 
from  lower  forms,  it  is  clear  that  the  instinct  of  self- 
promotion  must  be  the  deepest  and  most  ineradicable 
element  of  his  nature,  and  it  is  this  instinct  which 
1 1  irectly  underlies  the  rudimentary  sentiment  of  self¬ 
esteem  of  which  we  are  now  treating. 

This  instinct  will  appear,  first  of  all,  as  the  unre¬ 
flecting  organized  habit  of  seeking  individual  good, 
of  aiming  at  individual  happiness,  and  so  of  pushing 
on  the  action  of  the  individual  will.  This  impulse 
shows  itself  in  distinct  form  as  soon  as  the  individual 
is  brought  into  competition  with  another  similarly  con¬ 
stituted  being.  It  is  the  force  which  displays  itself 
in  all  opposition  and  hostility,  and  it  tends  to  limit 
and  counteract  the  gregarious  instincts  of  the  race. 
In  the  next  place,  as  intelligence  expands,  this  in¬ 
stinctive  action  becomes  conscious  pursuit  of  an  end, 
and  at  this  stage  the  thing  pursued  attracts  to  itself 


ORIGIN  OF  SELF-ESTEEM. 


321 


a  sentiment.  The  individual  now  consciously  desires, 
his  own  happiness  as  contrasted  with  that  of  others, 
knowingly  aims  at  enlarging  his  own  sphere  of  action 
to  the  diminution  of  others’  spheres.  Here  we  have 
the  nascent  sentiment  of  self-esteem,  on  which  all 
later  judgments  respecting  individual  importance  are 
in  part  at  least,  founded. 

Thus,  we  see  that  long  before  man  had  arrived 
at  an  idea  of  self  there  had  been  growing  up  an 
emotional  predisposition  to  think  well  of  self.  And 
in  this  way  we  may  understand  how  it  is  that  this 
sentiment  of  self-esteem  shows  itself  immediately  and 
instinctively  in  the  child’s  mind  as  soon  as  its  un¬ 
folding  consciousness  is  strong  enough  to  grasp  the 
first  rough  idea  of  personal  existence.  Far  down,  so 
to  speak,  below  the  surface  of  distinct  consciousness, 
in  the  intricate  formation  of  ganglion-cell  and  nerve- 
fibre,  the  connections  between  the  idea  of  self  and 
this  emotion  of  esteem  have  been  slowly  woven  through 
long  ages  of  animal  development. 

Here,  then,  we  seem  to  have  the  key  to  the  appar¬ 
ently  paradoxical  fact  that  a  man,  with  all  his  superior 
means  of  studying  his  own  feelings,  commonly  esteems 
himself,  in  certain  respects  at  least,  less  accurately 
than  a  good  external  observer  would  be  capable  of 
doing.  In  forming  an  opinion  of  ourselves  we  are  ex¬ 
posed  to  the  full  force  of  a  powerful  impulse  of  feeling. 
This  impulse,  acting  as  a  bias,  enters  more  or  less 
distinctly  into  our  single  acts  of  introspection,  into 
our  attempts  to  recall  our  past  doings,  into  our  in¬ 
sights  into  the  meaning  of  others’  words  and  actions 
as  related  to  ourselves  (forming  the  natural  disposition 
15 


522 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


to  enjoy  flattery),  and  Anally  into  our  wild  dreams 
as  to  our  future  achievements.  It  is  thus  the  principal 
root  of  that  gigantic  illusion  of  self-conceit,  which  has 
long  been  recognized  by  practical  sense  as  one  of  the 
greatest  obstacles  to  social  action  ;  and  by  art  as  one  of 
the  most  ludicrous  manifestations  of  human  weakness. 

If  there  are  all  these  openings  for  error  in  the 
beliefs  we  go  on  entertaining  respecting  individual 
things,  including  ourselves,  there  must  be  a  yet 
larger  number  of  such  openings  in  those  still  more 
compound  beliefs  which  we  habitually  hold  respecting 
collections  or  classes  of  things.  A  single  illusion  of 
perception  or  of  memory  may  suffice  to  give  rise  to  a 
wholly  illusory  belief  in  a  class  of  objects,  for  example, 
ghosts.  The  superstitious  beliefs  of  mankind  abundantly 
illustrate  this  complexity  of  the  sources  of  error.  And 
in  the  case  of  our  every-day  beliefs  respecting  real 
classes  of  objects,  these  sources  contribute  a  consider¬ 
able  quota  of  error.  We  may  again  see  this  by  examin¬ 
ing  our  ordinary  beliefs  respecting  our  fellow-men. 

A  moment’s  consideration  will  show  that  our  pre¬ 
vailing  views  respecting  any  section  of  mankind,  say 
our  fellow-countrymen,  or  mankind  at  large,  correspond 
at  best  to  a  very  loose  process  of  reasoning.  The 
accidents  of  our  personal  experience  and  opportunities 
of  observation,  the  traditions  which  coloured  our  first 
ideas,  the  influence  of  our  dominant  feelings  in  selecting 
for  attention  and  retention  certain  aspects  of  the  com¬ 
plex  object,  and  in  idealizing  this  object, — these  sources 
of  passive  and  active  illusion  must,  to  say  the  least, 
have  had  as  much  to  do  with  our  present  solidified  and 
seemingly  “  intuitive”  knowledge  as  anything  that  can 


ILLUSORY  VIEWS  OF  WORLD. 


323 


be  called  the  exercise  of  individual  judgment  and 
reasoning  power. 

The  force  of  this  observation  and  the  proof  that 
such  widely  generalized  beliefs  are  in  part  illusory,  is 
seen  in  the  fact  that  men  of  unlike  experience  and 
unlike  temperament  form  such  utterly  dissimilar  views 
of  the  same  object.  Thus,  as  Mr.  Spencer  has  shown,1 
in  looking  at  things  national  there  may  be  not  only  a 
powerful  patriotic  bias  at  work  in  the  case  of  the 
vulgar  Philistine,  but  also  a  distinctly  anti-patriotic 
bias  in  the  case  of  the  over-fastidious  seeker  after 
culture.  And  I  need  hardly  add  that  the  different 
estimates  of  mankind  held  with  equal  assurance  by 
the  cynic,  the  misanthropist,  and  the  philanthropic 
vindicator  of  his  species,  illustrate  a  like  diversity 
of  the  psychological  conditions  of  belief. 

Finally,  illusion  may  enter  into  that  still  wider 
collection  of  beliefs  which  make  up  our  ordinary  views 
of  life  and  the  world  as  a  whole.  Here  there  reflect 
themselves  in  the  plainest  manner  the  accidents  of  our 
individual  experience  and  the  peculiar  errors  to  which 
our  intellectual  and  emotional  conformation  disposes 
us.  The  world  is  for  us  what  we  feel  it  to  be  ;  and  we 
feel  it  to  be  the  cause  of  our  particular  emotional  ex¬ 
perience.  Just  as  we  have  found  that  our  environment 
helps  to  determine  our  idea  of  self  and  personal  con¬ 
tinuity,  so,  conversely,  our  inner  experience,  our  remem¬ 
bered  or  imagined  joys  and  sorrows  throw  a  reflection 
on  the  outer  world,  giving  it  its  degree  of  worth.  Hence 
the  contradictory,  and  consequently  to  some  extent  at 
least  illusory,  views  of  the  optimist  and  the  pessimist, 
1  The  Study  of  Sociology,  ch.  ix. 


524 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


“  intuitions  ”  which,  I  have  tried  to  show  elsewhere, 
are  connected  with  deeply  rooted  habits  of  feeling, 
and  are  antecedent  to  all  reasoned  philosophic  systems. 

If  proof  were  yet  wanted  that  these  wide-embracing- 
beliefs  may  to  some  extent  be  illusory,  it  would  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  they  can  be  distinctly  coloured 
by  a  temporary  mood  or  mental  tone.  As  I  have 
more  than  once  had  occasion  to  remark,  a  feeling 
when  present  tends  to  colour  all  the  ideas  of  the  time. 
And  when  out  of  sorts,  moody,  and  discontented,  a  man 
is  prone  to  find  a  large  objective  cause  of  his  dissatisfac¬ 
tion  in  a  world  out  of  joint  and  not  moving  to  his  mind. 

It  is  evident  that  all  the  permanent  beliefs  touched 
on  in  this  chapter  must  constitute  powerful  predisposi¬ 
tions  with  respect  to  any  particular  act  of  perception, 
insight,  introspection,  or  recollection.  In  other  words, 
these  persistent  beliefs,  so  far  as  individual  or  personal, 
are  but  another  name  for  those  fixed  habits  of  mind 
which,  in  the  case  of  each  one  of  us,  constitute  our 
intellectual  bias,  and  the  source  of  the  error  known  as 
personal  equation.  And  it  may  be  added  that,  just  as 
these  erroneous  beliefs  existing  in  the  shape  of  fixed 
prejudices  constitute  a  bias  to  new  error,  so  they  act 
as  powerful  resisting  forces  in  relation  to  new  truth 
and  the  correction  of  error. 

In  comparing  these  illusions  of  belief  with  those  of 
perception  and  memory,  we  cannot  fail  to  notice  their 
greater  compass  or  range,  in  other  words,  the  greater 
extent  of  the  region  of  fact  misrepresented.  Even  if 
they  are  less  forcible  and  irresistible  than  these  errors, 
they  clearly  make  up  for  this  by  the  area  which  they 
cover. 


DIVERGENCE  Ob'  BELIEF. 


325 


Another  thing  to  be  observed  with  respect  to  these 
comprehensive  beliefs  is  that  where,  as  here,  so  many 
co-operant  conditions  are  at  work,  the  whole  amount  of 
common  objective  agreement  is  greatly  reduced.  In 
other  words,  individual  peculiarities  of  intellectual  con¬ 
formation,  emotional  temperament,  and  experience  have 
a  far  wider  scope  for  their  influence  in  these  beliefs 
than  they  have  in  the  case  of  presentative  cognitions. 
At  the  same  time,  it  is  noteworthy  that  error  much 
more  rapidly  propagates  itself  here  than  in  the  case  of 
our  perceptions  or  recollections.  As  we  have  seen, 
these  beliefs  all  include  much  more  than  the  results  of 
the  individual’s  own  experience.  They  offer  a  large 
field  for  the  influence  of  personal  ascendency,  of  the 
contagion  of  sympathy,  and  of  authority  and  tradition. 
As  a  consequence  of  this,  the  illusions  of  belief  are 
likely  to  be  far  more  persistent  than  those  of  percep¬ 
tion  or  of  memory ;  for  not  only  do  they  lose  that 
salutary  process  of  correction  which  comparison  with 
the  experience  of  others  affords,  but  they  may  even 
be  strengthened  and  upheld  to  some  extent  by  such 
social  influences. 

And  here  the  question  might  seem  to  obtrude  itself, 
whether,  in  relation  to  such  a  fluctuating  mass  of  belief 
as  that  just  reviewed,  in  which  there  appears  to  be  so 
little  common  agreement,  we  can  correctly  speak  of 
anything  as  objectively  determinable.  If  illusion  and 
error  as  a  whole  are  defined  by  a  reference  to  what  is 
commonly  held  true  and  certain,  what,  it  may  be 
asked,  becomes  of  the  so-called  illusions  of  belief? 

This  question  will  have  to  be  fully  dealt  with  in 
the  following  chapter.  Here  it  may  be  sufficient  to 


326 


ILLUSIONS  OF  BELIEF. 


remark  that  amid  all  this  apparent  deviation  of  belief 
from  a  common  standard  of  truth,  there  is  a  clear 
tendency  to  a  rational  consensus.  Thought,  by  dis¬ 
engaging  what  is  really  matter  of  permanent  and 
common  cognition,  both  in  the  individual  and  still 
more  in  the  class,1  and  fixing  this  quantum  of  common 
cognition  in  the  shape  of  accurate  definitions  and 
universal  propositions,  is  ever  fighting  against  and 
restraining  the  impulses  of  individual  imagination 
towards  dissociation  and  isolation  of  belief.  And  this 
same  process  of  scientific  control  of  belief  is  ever  tend¬ 
ing  to  correct  widespread  traditional  forms  of  error, 
and  to  erect  a  new  and  better  standard  of  common 
cognition. 

This  scientific  regulation  of  belief  only  fails  where 
the  experiences  which  underlie  the  conceptions  are 
individual,  variable,  and  subjective.  Hence  there  is 
no  definite  common  conception  of  the  value  of  life 
and  of  the  world,  just  because  the  estimate  of  this 
value  must  vary  with  individual  circumstances,  tem¬ 
perament,  etc.  All  that  can  be  looked  for  here  in  the 
way  of  a  common  standard  or  norm  is  a  rough  average 
estimate.  And  this  common-sense  judgment  serves 
practically  as  a  sufficient  criterion  of  truth,  at  least  in 
relation  to  such  extreme  one-sidedness  of  view  as 
approaches  the  abnormal,  that  is  to  say,  one  of  the  two 
poles  of  irrational  exaltation,  or  “joy-madness,”  and 

1  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  proportion  of  accurate  knowledge  to  error 
is  far  larger  in  the  case  of  classes  than  of  individuals.  Propositions 
with  general  terms  for  subject  are  less  liable  to  be  faulty  than  propo¬ 
sitions  with  singular  terms  for  subject. 


CONVERGENCE  OF  BELIEF. 


327 


abject  melancholy,  which  appear  among  the  phenomena 
of  mental  disease.1 

1  For  a  description  of  each  of  these  extremes  of  boundless  gaiety 
and  utter  despondency,  see  Griesinger,  op.  cit ,  Bk.  III.  ch.  i.  and  ii. 
The  relation  of  pessimism  to  pathological  conditions  is  familiar 
enough  ;  less  familiar  is  the  relation  of  unrestrained  optimism.  Yet 
Griesinger  writes  that  among  the  insane  “  boundless  hilarity,”  with  “  a 
feeling  of  good  fortune,”  and  a  general  contentment  with  everything, 
is  as  frequent  as  depression  and  repining  (see  especially  p..  281,  also 
pp.  64,  65). 


CHAPTER  XIL 


RESULTS. 

The  foregoing  study  of  illusions  may  not  improbably 
have  bad  a  bewildering  effect  on  the  mind  of  the 
reader.  To  keep  the  mental  eye,  like  the  bodily  eye, 
for  any  time  intently  fixed  on  one  object  is  apt  to 
produce  a  feeling  of  giddiness.  And  in  the  case  of  a 
subject  like  illusion,  the  effect  is  enormously  increased 
by  the  disturbing  character  of  the  object  looked  at. 
Indeed,  the  first  feeling  produced  by  our  survey  of  the 
wide  field  of  illusory  error  might  be  expressed  pretty 
accurately  by  the  despondent  cry  of  the  poet — 

“Alas  !  it  is  delusion  all : 

The  future  cheats  us  from  afar. 

Nor  can  we  be  what  we  recall, 

Nor  dare  we  think  on  what  we  are.” 

It  must  be  confessed  that  our  study  has  tended  to 
bring  home  to  the  mind  the  wide  range  of  the  illusory 
and  unreal  in  our  intellectual  life.  In  sense-percep¬ 
tion,  in  the  introspection  of  the  mind’s  own  feelings,  in 
the  reading  of  others’  feelings,  in  memory,  and  finally 
in  belief,  we  have  found  a  large  field  for  illusory 
cognition.  And  while  illusion  has  thus  so  great  a 
depth  in  the  individual  mind,  it  has  a  no  less  striking 


RANGE  OF  ILLUSION. 


329 


breadth  or  extent  in  the  collective  human  mind.  No 
doubt  its  grosser  forms  manifest  themselves  most  con¬ 
spicuously  in  the  undisciplined  mind  of  the  savage 
and  the  rustic ;  yet  even  the  cultivated  mind  is  by  no 
means  free  from  its  control.  In  truth,  most  of  the 
illusions  illustrated  in  this  work  are  such  as  can  be 
shared  in  by  all  classes  of  mind. 

In  view  of  this  wide  far-reaching  area  of  ascer¬ 
tained  error,  the  mind  naturally  asks,  What  are  the 
real  limits  of  illusory  cognition,  and  how  can  we  be 
ever  sure  of  having  got  beyond  them?  This  question 
leads  us  on  to  philosophical  problems  of  the  greatest 
consequence,  problems  which  can  only  be  very  lightly 
touched  in  this  place.  Before  approaching  these,  let 
us  look  back  a  little  more  carefully  and  gather  up  our 
results,  reflect  on  the  method  which  we  have  been 
unconsciously  adopting,  and  inquire  how  far  this 
scientific  mode  of  procedure  will  take  us  in  determin¬ 
ing  what  is  the  whole  range  of  illusory  cognition. 

We  have  found  an  ingredient  of  illusion  mixed  up 
with  all  the  popularly  recognized  forms  of  imme¬ 
diate  knowledge.  Yet  this  ingredient  is  not  equally 
conspicuous  in  all  cases.  First  of  all,  illusion  varies 
very  considerably  in  its  degree  of  force  and  persistence. 
Thus,  in  general,  a  presentative  illusion  is  more  coercive 
than  a  representative ;  an  apparent  reality  present  to 
the  mind  is  naturally  felt  to  be  more  indubitable  than 
one  absent  and  only  represented.  On  the  other  hand, 
a  representative  illusion  is  often  more  enduring  than  a 
presentative,  that  is  to  say,  less  easily  found  out.  It 
is  to  be  added  that  a  good  deal  of  illusion  is  only 
partial,  there  being  throughout  an  under-current  of 


RESULTS. 


330 

rational  consciousness,  a  gentle  play  of  self-criticism, 
which  keeps  the  error  from  developing  into  a  perfect 
self-delusion.  This  remark  applies  not  only  to  the 
innocent  illusions  of  art,  but  also  to  many  of  our 
every-day  illusions,  both  presentative  and  representa¬ 
tive.  In  many  cases,  indeed,  as,  for  example,  in  looking 
at  a  reflection  in  a  mirror,  the  illusion  is  very  imperfect, 
remaining  in  the  nascent  stage. 

Again,  a  little  attention  to  the  facts  here  brought 
together  will  show  tliat  the  proportion  of  illusory  to 
real  knowledge  is  far  from  being  the  same  in  each 
class  of  immediate  or  quasi-immediate  cognition.  Thus, 
with  respect  to  the  great  distinction  between  presenta¬ 
tive  and  representative  knowledge,  it  is  to  be  observed 
that,  in  so  far  as  any  act  of  cognition  is,  strictly  speak¬ 
ing,  presentative,  it  does  not  appear  to  admit  of  error. 
The  illusions  of  perception  are  connected  with  the 
representative  side  of  the  process,  and  are  numerous 
just  because  this  is  so  extensive.  On  the  other  hand, 
in  introspection,  where  the  scope  of  independent  repre¬ 
sentation  is  so  limited,  the  amount  of  illusion  is  very 
inconsiderable,  and  may  in  practice  be  disregarded. 
So  again,  to  take  a  narrower  group  of  illusions,  we 
find  that  in  the  recalling  of  distant  events  the  pro¬ 
portion  of  error  is  vastly  greater  than  in  the  recalling 
of  near  events. 

So  much  as  to  the  extent  of  illusion  as  brought  to 
light  by  our  preceding  study.  Let  us  now  glance  at 
the  conclusions  obtained  respecting  its  nature  and  its 


causes. 


CAUSES  OF  ILLUSION. 


331 


Causes  of  Illusion. 

Looking  at  illusion  as  a  whole,  and  abstracting 
from  the  differences  of  mental  mechanism  in  the  pro¬ 
cesses  of  perception,  memory,  etc.,  we  may  say  that 
the  rationale  or  mode  of  genesis  of  illusion  is  very 
much  the  same  throughout.  Speaking  broadly,  one 
may  describe  all  knowledge  as  a  correspondence  of 
representation  with  fact  or  experience,  or  as  a  stable 
condition  of  the  representation  which  cannot  be  dis¬ 
turbed  by  new  experiences.  It  does  not  matter,  for 
our  present  purpose,  whether  the  fact  represented  is 
supposed  to  be  directly  present,  as  in  presentative 
cognition  ;  or  to  be  absent,  either  as  something  past  or 
future,  or  finally  as  a  “  general  fact,”  that  is  to  say,  the 
grpup  of  facts  (past  and  future)  embodied  in  a  universal 
proposition.1 

In  general  this  accordance  between  our  representa¬ 
tions  and  facts  is  secured  by  the  laws  of  our  intellectual 
mechanism.  It  follows  from  the  principles  of  associa¬ 
tion  that  our  simple  experiences,  external  and  internal, 
will  tend  to  reflect  themselves  in  perception,  memory, 
expectation,  and  general  belief,  in  the  very  time-con¬ 
nections  in  which  they  actually  occur.  To  put  it 
briefly,  facts  which  occur  together  will  in  general  be 
represented  together,  and  they  will  be  the  more  per¬ 
fectly  co-represented  in  proportion  to  the  frequency  of 
this  concurrence. 

1  It  has  been  seen  that,  from  a  purely  psychological  point  of  view, 
even  what  looks  at  first  like  pure  presentative  cognition,  as,  for  ex¬ 
ample,  the  recognition  of  a  present  feeling  of  the  mind,  involves 
an  ingredient  of  representation. 


332 


RESULTS. 


Illusion,  as  distinguished  from  correct  knowledge, 
is,  to  put  it  broadly,  deviation  of  representation  from 
fact.  This  is  due  in  part  to  limitations  and  defects 
in  the  intellectual  mechanism  itself,  such  as  the  im¬ 
perfections  of  the  activities  of  attention,  discrimination, 
and  comparison,  in  relation  to  what  is  present.  Still 
more  is  it  due  to  the  control  of  our  mental  processes 
by  association  and  habit.  These  forces,  which  are  at 
the  very  root  of  intelligence,  are  also,  in  a  sense,  the 
originators  of  error.  Through  the  accidents  of  our 
experience  or  the  momentary  condition  of  our  repro¬ 
ductive  power,  representations  get  wrongly  grouped 
with  presentations  and  with  one  another ;  wrongly 
grouped,  that  is  to  say,  according  to  a  perfect  or  ideal 
standard,  namely,  that  the  grouping  should  always 
exactly  agree  with  the  order  of  experience  as  a  whole, 
and  the  force  of  cohesion  be  proportionate  to  the  number 
of  the  conjunctions  of  this  experience. 

This  great  source  of  error  has  been  so  abundantly 
illustrated  under  the  head  of  Passive  Illusions  that  I 
need  not  dwell  on  it  further.  It  is  plain  that  a  passive 
error  of  perception,  or  of  expectation,  is  due  in  general  to 
a  defective  grouping  of  elements,  to  a  grouping  which 
answers,  perhaps,  to  the  run  of  the  individual’s  actual 
experience,  but  not  to  a  large  and  complete  common 
experience.1  Similarly,  an  illusory  general  belief  is 
plainly  a  we1  ding  together  of  elements  (here  concepts, 
answering  to  innumerable  representative  images)  in 
disagreement  with  the  permanent  connections  of  ex¬ 
perience.  Even  a  passive  illusion  of  memory,  in  so 

1  See  especially  what  was  said  about  the  rationale  of  illusions 
of  perception,  pp.  37,  38. 


RATIONALE  OF  ILLUSION. 


333 


far  as  it  involves  a  rearrangement  of  successive  repre¬ 
sentations,  shows  the  same  kind  of  defect. 

In  the  second  place,  this  incorrect  grouping  may 
he  due,  not  to  defects  in  attention  and  discrimination, 
combined  with  insufficiently  grounded  association,  but 
to  the  independent  play  of  constructive  imagination 
and  the  caprices  of  feeling.  This  is  illustrated  in  what 
I  have  called  Active  Illusions,  whether  the  excited 
perceptions  and  the  hallucinations  of  sense,  or  the 
fanciful  projections  of  memory  or  of  expectation. 
Here  we  have  a  force  directly  opposed  to  that  of  ex¬ 
perience.  Active  illusion  arises,  not  through  the  im¬ 
perfections  of  the  intellectual  mechanism,  but  through 
a  palpable  interference  with  this  mechanism.  It  is  a 
regrouping  of  elements  which  simulates  the  form  of 
a  suggestion  by  experience,  but  is,  in  reality,  the  out¬ 
come  of  the  individual  mind’s  extra-intellectual  im¬ 
pulses. 

We  see,  then,  that,  in  spite  of  obvious  differences 
in  the  form,  the  process  in  all  kinds  of  immediate 
cognition  is  fundamentally  identical.  It  is  essentially 
a  bringing  together  of  elements,  whether  similar 
or  dissimilar  and  associated  by  a  link  of  contiguity, 
and  a  viewing  of  these  as  connected  parts  of  a  whole  ; 
it  is  a  process  of  synthesis.  And  illusion,  in  all  its 
forms,  is  bad  grouping  or  carelessly  performed  synthesis. 
This  holds  good  even  of  the  simplest  kinds  of  error  in 
which  a  presentative  element  is  wrongly  classed ;  and 
it  holds  good  of  those  more  conspicuous  errors  of  per¬ 
ception,  memory,  expectation,  and  compound  belief,  in 
which  representations  connect  themselves  in  an  order 
not  perfectly  answering  to  the  objective  order. 


334 


RESULTS. 


This  view  of  the  nature  and  causes  of  illusion  is 
clearly  capable  of  being  expressed  in  physical  language. 
Bad  grouping  of  psychical  elements  is  equivalent  to 
imperfect  co-ordination  of  their  physical,  that  is  to  say, 
nervous,  conditions,  imperfect  in  the  evolutionist’s 
sense,  as  not  exactly  according  with  external  relations. 
So  far  as  illusions  of  suggestion  (passive  illusions) 
are  concerned,  the  error  is  connected  with  organized 
tendencies,  due  to  a  limited  action  of  experience. 
On  the  other  hand,  illusions  of  preconception  (active 
illusions)  usually  involve  no  such  deeply  fixed  or  per¬ 
manent  organic  connections,  but  merely  a  temporary 
confluence  of  nerve-processes.1  The  nature  of  the 
physical  process  is  best  studied  in  the  case  of  errors  of 
sense-perception.  Yet  we  may  hypothetically  argue 
that  even  in  the  case  of  the  most  complex  errors,  as 
those  of  memory  and  of  belief,  there  is  implied  a 
deviation  in  the  mode  of  connection  of  nervous  struc¬ 
tures  (whether  the  connection  be  permanent  or  tem¬ 
porary)  from  the  external  order  of  facts. 

And  now  we  are  in  a  position  to  see  whether  illusion 
is  ultimately  distinguishable  from  other  modes  of 
error,  namely,  those  incident  to  conscious  processes 
of  reasoning.  It  must  have  been  plain  to  an  attentive 
reader  throughout  our  exposition  that,  in  spite  of  our 
provisional  distinction,  no  sharp  line  can  be  drawn 
between  much  of  what,  on  the  surface,  looks  like  im¬ 
mediate  knowledge,  and  consciously  derived  or  inferred 
knowledge.  On  its  objective  side,  reasoning  may  be 

1  I  say  “  usually,”  because,  as  we  have  seen,  there  may  sometimes 
be  a  permanent  and  even  an  inherited  predisposition  to  active  illusion 
in  the  individual  temperament  and  nervous  organization. 


ILLUSION  AND  FALLACY. 


335 


roughly  defined  as  a  conscious  transition  of  mind  from 
certain  facts  or  relations  of  facts  to  other  facts  or 
relations  recognized  as  similar.  According  to  this 
definition,  a  fallacy  would  be  a  hasty,  unwarranted 
transition  to  new  cases  not  identical  with  the  old. 
And  a  good  part  of  immediate  knowledge  is  funda¬ 
mentally  the  same,  only  that  here,  throu.h  the  ex¬ 
ceptional  force  of  association  and  habit,  the  transition 
is  too  rapid  to  be  consciously  recognized.  Conse¬ 
quently,  illusion  becomes  identified  at  bottom  with 
fallacious  inference :  it  may  be  briefly  described  as 
collapsed  inference.  Thus,  illusory  perception  and 
expectation  are  plainly  a  hasty  transition  of  mind 
from  old  to  new,  from  past  to  present,  conjunctions  of 
experience.1  And,  as  we  have  seen,  an  illusory  general 
belief  owes  its  existence  to  a  coalescence  of  represen¬ 
tations  of  known  facts  or  connections  with  products 
of  imagination  which  simulate  the  appearance  of  in¬ 
ferences  from  these  facts. 

In  the  case  of  memory,  in  so  far  as  it  is  not  aided 

1  See  what  was  said  on  the  nature  of  passive  illusions  of  sense 
(pp.  44,  08, 70,  etc.).  The  logical  character  of  illusion  might  be  brought 
out  by  saying  that  it  resembles  the  fallacy  which  is  due  to  reasoning 
from  an  approximate  generalization  as  though  it  were  a  universal  truth. 
In  thus  identifying  illusion  and  fallacy,  I  must  not  be  understood  to 
say  that  there  is,  strictly  speaking,  any  such  thing  as  an  unconscious 
reasoning  process.  On  the  contrary,  I  hold  that  it  is  a  contradic¬ 
tion  to  talk  of  any  mental  operation  as  altogether  unconscious.  I 
simply  wish  to  show  that,  by  a  kind  of  fiction,  illusion  may  be  de¬ 
scribed  as  the  result  of  a  series  of  steps  which,  if  separately  unfolded 
to  consciousness  (as  they  no  longer  are),  would  correspond  to  those  of 
a  process  of  inference.  The  fact  that  illusion  arises  by  a  process  of 
contraction  out  of  conscious  inference  seems  to  justify  this  use  of  lan¬ 
guage,  even  apart  from  the  fact  that  the  nervous  processes  in  the  two 
cases  are  pretty  certainly  the  same. 


536 


RESULTS. 


by  reasoning  from  present  signs,  there  seems  to  be 
nothing  like  a  movement  of  inference.  It  is  evident, 
indeed,  that  memory  is  involved  in  and  underlies  every 
such  transition  of  thought.  Illusions  of  memory  illus¬ 
trate  rather  a  process  of  wrong  classing,  that  is  to  say, 
of  wrongly  identifying  the  present  mental  image  with 
past  fact,  which  is  the  initial  step  in  all  inference.  In 
this  way  they  closely  resemble  those  slight  errors  of 
perception  which  are  due  to  erroneous  classing  of  sense- 
impressions.  But  since  the  intellectual  process  involved 
in  assimilating  mental  elements  is  very  similar  to  that 
implied  in  assimilating  complex  groups  of  such  ele¬ 
ments,  we  may  say  that  even  in  these  simple  kinds  of 
error  there  is  something  which  resembles  a  wrong 
classing  of  relations,  something,  therefore,  which  ap¬ 
proximates  in  character  to  a  fallacy. 

By  help  of  this  brief  review  of  the  nature  and 
causes  of  illusion,  we  see  that  in  general  it  may  be 
spoken  of  as  deviation  of  individual  from  common 
experience.  This  applies  to  passive  illusion  in  so  far 
as  it  follows  from  the  accidents  of  individual  experience, 
and  it  still  more  obviously  applies  to  active  illusion  as 
due  to  the  vagaries  of  individual  feeling  and  construc¬ 
tive  imagination.  We  might,  perhaps,  characterize  all 
illusion  as  partial  view,  partial  both  in  the  sense  of 
being  incomplete,  and  in  the  other  sense  of  being  that 
to  which  the  mind  by  its  peculiar  predispositions  in¬ 
clines.  This  being  so,  we  may  very  roughly  describe 
all  illusion  as  abnormal.  Just  as  hallucination,  the 
most  signal  instance  of  illusion,  is  distinctly  on  the 
border-land  of  healthy  and  unhealthy  mental  life; 
just  as  dreams  are  in  the  direction  of  such  unhealthy 


ERROR  AS  INDIVIDUAL. 


337 


mental  action  ;  so  the  lesser  illusions  of  memory  and  so 
on  are  abnormal  in  the  sense  that  they  imply  a 
departure  from  a  common  typical  mode  of  intellectual 
action. 

It  is  plain,  indeed,  that  this  is  the  position  we  have 
been  taking  up  throughout  our  discussion  of  illusion. 
We  have  assumed  that  what  is  common  and  normal  is 
true,  or  answers  to  what  is  objectively  real.  Thus,  in 
dealing  with  errors  of  perception,  we  took  for  granted 
that  the  common  percept — meaning  by  this  what  is 
permanent  in  the  individual  and  the  general  ex¬ 
perience— is  at  the  same  time  the  true  percept.  So 
in  discussing  the  illusions  of  memory  we  estimated  ob¬ 
jective  time  by  the  judgment  of  the  average  man,  free 
from  individual  bias,  and  apart  from  special  circum¬ 
stances  favourable  to  error.  Similarly,  in  the  case  of 
belief,  true  belief  was  held  to  be  that  which  men  in 
general,  or  in  the  long  run,  or  on  the  average,  hold 
true,  as  distinguished  from  what  the  individual  under 
variable  and  accidental  influences  holds  true.  And 
even  in  the  case  of  introspection  we  found  that  true 
cognition  resolved  itself  into  a  consensus  or  agreement 
as  to  certain  psychical  facts. 

Criterion  of  Illusion. 

Now,  it  behoves  us  here  to  examine  this  assumption, 
with  the  view  of  seeing  how  far  it  is  perfectly  sound. 
For  it  may  be  that  what  is  commonly  held  true  does 
not  in  all  cases  strictly  answer  to  the  real,  in  which 
case  our  idea  of  illusion  would  have  to  be  extended  so 
as  to  include  certain  common  beliefs.  This  question 
was  partly  opened  up  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter. 


338 


EESULTS. 


It  will  be  found  that  the  full  discussion  of  it  carries  us 
beyond  the  scientific  point  of  view  altogether.  For 
the  present,  however,  let  us  see  what  can  be  said  about 
it  from  that  standpoint  of  positive  science  to  which  we 
have  hitherto  been  keeping. 

Now,  if  by  common  be  meant  what  has  been  shared 
by  all  minds  or  the  majority  of  minds  up  to  a  particu¬ 
lar  time,  a  moment’s  inspection  of  the  process  of 
correcting  illusion  will  show  that  science  assumes  the 
possibility  of  a  common  illusion.  In  the  history  of 
discovery,  the  first  assault  on  an  error  was  the  setting 
up  of  the  individual  against  the  society.  The  men 
who  first  dared  to  say  that  the  sun  did  not  move  round 
the  earth  found  to  their  cost  what  it  was  to  fly  in  the 
face  of  a  common,  though  illusory,  perception  of  the 
senses.1 

If,  however,  by  common  be  understood  what  is 
permanently  and  unshakably  held  true  by  men  in 
proportion  as  their  minds  become  enlightened,  then 
science  certainly  does  assume  the  truth  of  common 
perception  and  belief.  Thus,  the  progress  of  the  phy¬ 
sical  sciences  may  be  described  as  a  movement  towards 
a  new,  higher,  and  more  stable  consensus  of  ideas  and 
beliefs.  In  point  of  fact,  the  truths  accepted  by  men 
of  science  already  form  a  body  of  common  belief  for 

1  If  we  turn  from  tlie  region  of  physical  to  that  of  moral  ideas, 
we  see  this  historical  collision  between  common  and  individual  con¬ 
viction  in  a  yet  more  impressive  form.  The  teacher  of  a  new  moral 
truth  has  again  and  again  been  set  down  to  be  an  illusionist  by  a 
society  which  was  itself  under  the  sway  of  a  long-reigning  error. 
As  George  Eliot  observes,  “What  we  call  illusions  are  often,  in  truth, 
a  wider  vision  of  past  and  present  realities — a  willing  movement  of  a 
man’s  soul  with  the  larger  sweep  of  tho  world’s  forces.” 


TRUTH  AS  COMMON. 


339 


those  who  are  supposed  by  all  to  have  the  means  of 
testing  the  value  of  their  convictions.  And  the  same 
applies  to  the  successive  improvements  in  the  concep¬ 
tions  of  the  moral  sciences,  for  example,  history  and 
psychology.  Indeed,  the  very  meaning  of  science 
appears  to  be  a  body  of  common  cognition  to  which 
all  minds  converge  in  proportion  to  their  capabilities 
and  opportunities  of  studying  the  particular  subject- 
matter  concerned. 

Not  only  so,  from  a  strictly  scientific  point  of 
view  it  might  seem  possible  to  prove  that  common 
cognition,  as  defined  above,  must  in  general  be  true 
cognition.  I  refer  here  to  the  now  familiar  method  of 
the  evolutionist. 

According  to  this  doctrine,  which  is  a  scientific 
method  in  so  far  as  it  investigates  the  historical  de¬ 
velopments  of  mind  or  the  order  of  mental  phenomena 
in  time,  cognition  may  be  viewed  as  a  part  of  the  result 
of  the  interaction  of  external  agencies  and  the  organism, 
as  an  incident  of  the  great  process  of  adaptation,  phy¬ 
sical  and  psychical,  of  organism  to  environment.  In 
thus  looking  at  cognition,  the  evolutionist  is  making 
the  assumption  which  all  science  makes,  namely,  that 
correct  views  are  correspondences  between  internal 
(mental)  relations  and  external  (physical)  relations, 
incorrect  views  disagreements  between  these  relations. 
From  this  point  of  view  he  may  proceed  to  argue  that 
the  intellectual  processes  must  tend  to  conform  to  ex¬ 
ternal  facts.  All  correspondence,  he  tells  us,  means 
fitness  to  external  conditions  and  practical  efficiency, 
all  want  of  correspondence  practical  incompetence. 
Consequently,  those  individuals  in  whom  the  corre* 


340 


RESULTS. 


spondence  was  more  complete  and  exact  would  have 
an  advantage  in  the  struggle  for  existence  and  so  tend 
to  be  preserved.  In  this  way  the  process  of  natural 
selection,  by  separately  adjusting  individual  repre¬ 
sentations  to  actualities,  would  make  them  converge 
towards  a  common  meeting-point  or  social  standard  of 
true  cognition.  That  is  to  say,  by  eliminating  or  at 
least  greatly  circumscribing  the  region  of  individual 
illusion,  natural  selection  would  exclude  the  possibility 
of  a  persistent  common  illusion. 

Not  only  so,  the  evolutionist  may  say  that  this 
coincidence  between  common  beliefs  and  true  beliefs 
would  be  furthered  by  social  as  well  as  individual 
competition.  A  community  has  an  advantage  in  the 
struggle  with  other  communities  when  it  is  dis¬ 
tinguished  by  the  presence  of  the  conditions  of 
effective  co-operation,  such  as  mutual  confidence. 
Among  these  conditions  a  body  of  true  knowledge 
seems  to  be  of  the  first  importance,  since  conjoint 
action  always  presupposes  common  beliefs,  and,  to  be 
effective  action,  implies  that  these  beliefs  are  correct. 
Consequently,  it  may  be  argued,  the  forces  at  work 
in  the  action  of  man  on  man,  of  society  on  the  indi¬ 
vidual,  in  the  way  of  assimilating  belief,  must  tend, 
in  the  long  run,  to  bring  about  a  coincidence  between 
representations  and  facts.  Thus,  in  another  way, 
natural  selection  would  help  to  adjust  our  ideas  to 
realities,  and  to  exclude  the  possibility  of  anything 
like  a  permanent  common  error. 

Yet  once  more,  according  to  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer, 
the  tendency  to  agreement  between  our  ideas  and 
the  environment  would  be  aided  by  what  he  calls  the 


EVOLUTIONIST’S  VIEW  OF  ERROR. 


341 


direct  process  of  adaptation.  The  exercise  of  a  function 
tends  to  the  development  of  that  function.  Thus,  our 
acts  of  perception  must  become  more  exact  by  mere 
repetition.  So,  too,  the  representations  and  concepts 
growing  out  of  perceptions  must  tend  to  approximate 
to  external  facts  by  the  direct  action  of  the  environment 
on  our  physical  and  psychical  organism  ;  for  external 
relations  which  are  permanent  will,  in  the  long  run, 
stamp  themselves  on  our  nervous  and  ment  d  structure 
more  deeply  and  indelibly  than  relations  which  are 
variable  and  accidental. 

It  would  seem,  from  all  this,  that  so  long  as  we 
are  keeping  to  the  scientific  point  of  view,  that  is  to 
say,  taking  for  granted  that  there  is  something  ob¬ 
jectively  real  answering  to  our  perceptions  and  con¬ 
ceptions,  the  question  of  the  possibility  of  a  universal 
or  (permanently)  common  illusion  does  not  arise.  Yet 
a  little  more  reflection  will  show  us  that  it  may  arise 
in  a  way.  „So  far  as  the  logical  sufficiency  of  the  social 
consensus  or  common  belief  is  accepted  as  scientifically 
proved,  it  is  open  to  suspicion  on  strictly  scientific 
grounds.  The  evolutionist’s  proof  involves  one  or  two 
assumptions  which  are  not  exactly  true. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  not  strictly  correct  to  say 
that  all  illusion  involves  a  practical  unfitness  to  cir¬ 
cumstances.  At  the  close  of  our  investigation  of 
particular  groups  of  illusion,  for  example,  those  of  per¬ 
ception  and  memory,  it  was  pointed  out  that  many  of 
the  errors  reviewed  were  practically  harmless,  being 
either  momentary  and  evanescent,  or  of  such  a  cha¬ 
racter  as  not  to  lead  to  injurious  action.  And  now, 
by  glancing  back  over  the  field  of  illusion  as  a  whole 


342 


RESULTS. 


we  may  see  the  same  thing.  The  day-dreams  in  which 
some  people  are  apt  to  indulge  respecting  the  remote 
future  have  little  effect  on  their  conduct.  So,  too,  a 
man’s  general  view  of  the  world  is  often  unrelated  to 
his  daily  habits  of  life.  It  seems  to  matter  exceedingly 
little,  in  general,  whether  a  person  take  up  the  geo¬ 
centric  or  the  heliocentric  conception  of  the  cosmic 
structure,  or  even  whether  he  adopt  an  optimistic  or 
pessimistic  view  of  life  and  its  capabilities. 

So  inadequate,  indeed,  does  the  agency  of  natural 
selection  seem  to  be  to  eliminate  illusion,  that  it  may 
even  be  asked  whether  its  tendency  may  not  be 
sometimes  to  harden  and  fix  rather  than  to  dissolve 
and  dissipate  illusory  ideas  and  beliefs.  It  will  at 
once  occur  to  the  reader  that  the  illusion  of  self-esteem, 
discussed  in  the  last  chapter,  may  have  been  highly 
useful  as  subserving  individual  self-preservation.  In 
a  similar  way,  it  has  been  suggested  by  Schopenhauer 
that  the  illusion  of  the  lover  owes  its  force  and  his¬ 
torical  persistence  to  its  paramount  utility  for  the  pre¬ 
servation  of  the  species.  And  to  pass  from  a  recurring 
individual  to  a  permanently  common  belief,  it  is  main¬ 
tained  by  the  same  pessimist  and  his  followers  that 
what  they  regard  as  the  illusion  of  optimism,  namely, 
the  idea  that  human  life  as  a  whole  is  good,  grows  out 
of  the  individual’s  irrational  love  of  life,  which  is  only 
the  same  instinctive  impulse  of  self-preservation  ap¬ 
pearing  as  conscious  desire.  Once  more,  it  has  been 
suggested  that  the  belief  in  free-will,  even  if  illusory, 
would  be  preserved  by  the  process  of  evolution,  owing 
to  its  paramount  utility  in  certain  stages  of  moral 
development.  All  this  seems  to  show  at  least  the 


HARMLESS  ILLUSIONS. 


343 


possibility  of  a  kind  of  illusion  which  would  tend  to 
perpetuate  itself,  and  to  appear  as  a  permanent  common 
belief. 

Now,  so  far  as  this  is  the  case,  so  far  as  illusion  is 
useful  or  only  harmless,  natural  selection  cannot,  it  is 
plain,  be  counted  on  to  weed  it  out,  keeping  it  within 
the  narrow  limits  of  the  exceptional  and  individual. 
Natural  selection  gets  rid  of  what  is  harmful  only,  and 
is  indifferent  to  what  is  practically  harmless. 

It  may,  however,  still  be  said  that  the  process  of 
direct  adaptation  must  tend  to  establish  such  a  con¬ 
sensus  of  true  belief.  Now,  I  do  not  wish  for  a  moment 
to  dispute  that  the  growth  of  intelligence  by  the  con¬ 
tinual  exercise  of  its  functions  tends  to  such  a  con¬ 
sensus  :  this  is  assumed  to  be  the  case  by  everybody. 
What  I  want  to  point  out  is  that  there  is  no  scientific 
proof  of  this  position. 

The  correspondence  of  internal  to  external  relations 
is  obviously  limited  by  the  modes  of  action  of  the 
environment  on  the  organism,  consequently  by  the 
structure  of  the  organism,  itself.  Scientific  men  are 
familiar  with  the  idea  that  there  may  be  forces  in  the 
environment  which  are  practically  inoperative  on  the 
organism,  there  being  no  corresponding  mode  of  sensi¬ 
bility.  And  even  if  it  be  said  that  our  present  know¬ 
ledge  of  the  material  world,  including  the  doctrine 
of  the  conservation  of  energy,  enables  us  to  assert  that 
there  is  no  mode  of  force  wholly  unknown  to  us,  it 
can  still  be  contended  that  the  environment  may,  for 
aught  we  know,  be  vastly  more  than  the  forces  of  which, 
owing  to  the  nature  of  our  organism,  we  know  it  to  be 
composed.  In  short,  since,  on  the  evolution  theory 


344 


RESULTS. 


viewed  as  a  scientific  doctrine,  the  real  external  world 
does  not  directly  mirror  itself  in  our  minds,  hut  only  in¬ 
directly  brings  our  perceptions  and  representations  into 
adjustment  by  bringing  into  adjustment  the  nervous 
organism  with  which  they  are  somehow  connected,  it 
is  plain  that  we  cannot  be  certain  of  adequately  appre¬ 
hending  the  external  reality  which  is  here  assumed 
to  exist. 

Science,  then,  cannot  prove,  but  must  assume  the 
coincidence  between  permanent  common  intuitions  and 
objective  reality.  To  raise  the  question  whether  this 
coincidence  is  perfect  or  imperfect,  whether  all  common 
intuitions  known  to  be  persistent  are  true  or  whether 
there  are  any  that  are  illusory,  is  to  pass  beyond  the 
scientific  point  of  view  to  another,  namely,  the  philo¬ 
sophic.  Thus,  our  study  of  illusion  naturally  carries 
us  on  from  scientific  to  philosophic  reflection.  Let  me 
try  to  make  this  still  more  clear. 

Transition  to  Philosophic  View. 

All  science  makes  certain  assumptions  which  it 
never  examines.  Thus,  the  physicist  assumes  that 
when  we  experience  a  sensation  we  are  acted  on  by 
some  pre-existing  external  object  which  is  the  cause, 
or  at  least  one  condition,  of  the  sensation.  While 
resolving  the  secondary  qualities  of  light,  sound,  etc., 
into  modes  of  motion,  while  representing  the  object 
very  differently  from  the  unscientific  mind,  he  agrees 
with  this  in  holding  to  the  reality  of  something  ex¬ 
ternal,  regarding  this  as  antecedent  to  and  therefore  as 
independent  of  the  particular  mind  which  receives  the 
sense-impression.  Again,  he  assumes  the  uniformity 


COMMON  INTUITIONS  CHALLENGED. 


345 


of  nature,  the  universality  of  tlie  causal  relation,  and 
so  on. 

Similarly,  the  modern  psychologist,  when  confining 
himself  within  the  limits  of  positive  science,  and  treat¬ 
ing  mind  phenomenally  or  empirically,  or,  in  other 
words,  tracing  the  order  of  mental  states  in  time  and 
assigning  their  conditions,  takes  for  granted  much  the 
same  as  physical  science  does.  Thus,  as  our  foregoing 
analysis  of  perception  shows,  he  assumes  that  there  is  an 
external  cause  of  our  sensations,  that  there  are  material 
bodies  in  space,  which  act  on  our  sense-organs  and  so 
serve  as  the  condition  of  our  sense-impressions.  More 
than  this,  he  regards,  in  the  way  that  has  been  illus¬ 
trated  in  this  work,  the  percept  itself,  in  so  far  as  it 
is  a  process  in  time,  as  the  normal  result  of  the  action 
of  such  external  agents  on  our  nerve-structures,  in 
other  words,  as  the  effect  of  such  action  in  the  case 
of  the  healthy  and  perfect  nervous  organism  with  the 
average  organized  dispositions,  physical  and  psychical ; 
in  which  case  he  supposes  the  percept  to  correspond, 
in  certain  respects  at  least,  with  the  external  cause 
as  made  known  by  physical  science.  And,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  looks  on  a  false  or  illusory  percept  as 
arising  in  another  way  not  involving,  as  its  condition, 
the  pre-existence  of  a  corresponding  material  body  or 
physical  agent.  And  in  this  view  of  perception,  as  of 
other  mental  phenomena,  the  psychologist  clearly  takes 
for  granted  the  principle  that  all  mental  events  con¬ 
form  to  the  law  of  causation.  Further,  he  assumes 
that  the  individual  mind  is  somehow,  in  a  way  which 
it  is  not  his  province  to  inquire  into,  one  and  the  same 
throughout,  and  so  on. 


o4.6 


RESULTS. 


The  doctrine  of  evolution,  too,  in  so  far  as  scientific 
— that  is,  aiming  at  giving  an  account  of  the  historical 
and  pre-historical  developments  of  the  collective  mind 
in  time — agrees  with  psychology  in  making  like  as¬ 
sumptions.  Thus,  it  conceives  an  external  agency 
(the  environment)  as  the  cause  of  our  common  sensa¬ 
tions  and  perceptions.  That  is  to  say,  it  represents 
the  external  world  as  somehow  antecedent  to,  and  so 
apparently  independent  of,  the  perceptions  which  are 
adjusted  to  it.  And  all  this  shows  that  science,  while 
removed  from  vulgar  unenlightened  opinion,  takes 
sides  with  popular  thought  in  assuming  the  truth  of 
certain  fundamental  ideas  or  so-called  intuitive  beliefs, 
into  the  exact  meaning  of  which  it  does  not  inquire. 

When  the  meaning  of  these  assumptions  is 
investigated,  we  pass  out  of  the  scientific  into  the 
philosophic  domain.  Philosophy  has  to  critically  in¬ 
vestigate  the  data  of  popular  thought  and  of  science. 
It  has  to  discover  exactly  what  is  implied  in  these 
fundamental  principles.  Then  it  has  to  test  their 
value  by  erecting  a  final  criterion  of  truth,  by  probing 
the  structure  of  cognition  to  the  bottom,  and  deter¬ 
mining  the  proper  organ  of  certain  or  accurate  know¬ 
ledge  ;  or,  to  put  it  another  way,  it  has  to  examine 
what  is  meant  by  reality,  whether  there  is  anything 
real  independently  of  the  mind,  and  if  so,  what.  In 
doing  this  it  inquires  not  only  what  common  sense 
means  by  its  object-world  clothed  in  its  variegated 
garment  of  secondary  qualities,  its  beauty,  and  so  on, 
but  also  what  physical  science  means  by  its  cosmic 
mechanism  of  sensible  and  extra-sensible  matter  in 
motion :  whether  there  is  any  kind  of  objective  reality 


SCIENCE  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 


347 


belonging  to  the  latter  which  does  not  also  belong  to 
the  former ;  and  how  the  two  worlds  are  related  one  to 
another.  That  is  to  say,  he  asks  whether  the  bodies 
in  space  assumed  to  exist  by  the  physicist  as  the  ante¬ 
cedent  conditions  of  particular  sensations  and  percepts 
are  independent  of  mind  and  perception  generally.1 

In  doing  all  this,  philosophy  is  theoretically  free  to 
upset  as  much  of  popular  belief  of  the  persistent  kind 
as  it  likes.  Nor  can  science  find  fault  with  it  so  long 
as  it  keeps  to  its  own  sphere,  and  does  not  directly  con¬ 
tradict  any  truth  which  science,  by  the  methods  proper 
to  it,  is  able  to  establish.  Thus,  for  example,  if 
philosophy  finds  that  there  is  nothing  real  inde¬ 
pendently  of  mind,  science  will  be  satisfied  so  long  as 
it  finds  a  meaning  for  its  assumed  entities,  such  as 
space,  external  things,  and  physical  causes.2 

The  student  of  philosophy  need  not  be  told  that 
these  imposing-looking  problems  respecting  cognition, 
making  up  what  the  Germans  call  the  “  Theory  of 
Cognition,”  and  the  cognate  problem  respecting  the 
nature  of  reality,  are  still  a  long  way  from  being  settled. 
To-day,  as  in  the  days  of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  are 
argued,  in  slightly  altered  forms,  the  vexed  questions, 
What  is  true  cognition  ?  Is  it  a  mere  efflux  from 

1  To  make  this  account  of  the  philosophic  problem  of  the  object- 
world  complete,  I  ought  to  touch  not  only  on  the  distinction  between 
the  vulgar  and  the  scientific  view  of  material  things,  but  also  on  the 
distinction,  within  physical  science,  between  the  less  and  the  more 
abstract  view  roughly  represented  by  molar  and  molecular  physics. 

2  For  an  excellent  account  of  the  distinction  between  the  scientific 
»nd  the  philosophic  point  of  view,  see  Mr.  Shadworth  Hodgson’s 
Philosophy  of  11  flection,  Bk.  I.  chs.  i.  and  iii. ;  also  Bk.  IH.  chs.  vii. 
and  viii. 


SIS 


RESULTS. 


sensation,  a  passive  conformity  of  representation  to 
sensation  (sensualism  or  empiricism)  ?  or  is  it,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  construction  of  active  thought,  involv¬ 
ing  certain  necessary  forms  of  intelligence  (rationalism 
or  intuitivism)  ? 

Again,  how  are  we  to  shape  to  ourselves  real 
objective  existence?  Is  it  something  wholly  inde¬ 
pendent  of  the  mind  (realism)?  and  if  so,  is  this 
known  to  be  what  we — meaning  here  common  people 
and  men  of  science  alike — represent  it  as  being  (natural 
realism),  or  something  different  (transfigured  realism)  ? 
Or  is  it,  on  the  contrary,  something  involving  mind 
(idealism)  ?  and  if  so,  is  it  a  strictly  phenomenal  dis¬ 
tinction  within  our  conscious  experience  (empirical 
idealism,  phenomenalism),  or  one  of  the  two  poles 
of  subject  and  object  constituted  by  every  act  of 
thought  (rational  idealism)  ?  These  are  some  of  the 
questions  in  philosophy  which  still  await  their  final 
answer. 

Philosophy  being  thus  still  a  question  and  not  a 
solution,  we  need  not  here  trouble  ourselves  about  its 
problems  further  than  to  remark  on  their  close  con¬ 
nection  with  our  special  subject,  the  study  of  illusion. 

Our  brief  reference  to  some  of  the  principal  inquiries 
of  philosophy  shows  that  it  tends  to  throw  doubt  on 
things  which  the  unreflecting  popular  mind  holds  to 
be  indubitable.  Different  schools  of  philosophy  have 
shown  themselves  unequally  concerned  about  these  so- 
called  intuitive  certainties.  In  general  it  may  be  said 
that  philosophy,  though,  as  I  have  remarked,  theo* 
retically  free  to  set  up  its  own  standard  of  certainty, 
has  in  practice  endeavoured  to  give  a  meaning  to, 


WHAT  IS  REALITY? 


3-iy 


and  to  find  a  justification  for  the  assumptions  or  first 
principles  of  science.  On  the  other  hand,  it  has  not 
hesitated,  when  occasion  required,  to  make  very  light 
of  the  intuitive  beliefs  of  the  popular  mind  as 
interpreted  by  itself.  Thus,  rationalists  of  the  Platonic 
type  have  not  shrunk  from  pronouncing  individual 
impressions  and  objects  illusory,  an  assertion  which 
certainly  seems  to  be  opposed  to  the  assumptions  of 
common  sense,  if  not  to  those  of  science.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  modern  empirical  or  association  school 
is  quite  ready  to  declare  that  the  vulgar  belief  in 
an  external  world,  so  far  as  it  represents  this  as  inde¬ 
pendent  of  mind,1  is  an  illusion ;  that  the  so-called 
necessary  beliefs  respecting  identity,  uniformity,  causa¬ 
tion,  etc.,  are  not,  strictly  speaking,  necessary ;  and  so 
on.  And  in  these  ways  it  certainly  seems  to  come 
into  conflict  with  popular  convictions,  or  intuitive  cer¬ 
tainties,  as  they  present  themselves  to  the  unreflecting 
i  itelligence. 

Philosophy  seems,  then,  to  be  a  continuation  of  that 
process  of  detecting  illusion  with  which  science  in 
part  concerns  itself.  Indeed,  it  is  evident  that  our 

1  I  hold,  in  spite  of  Berkeley’s  endeavours  to  reconcile  his  position 
with  that  of  common  sense,  that  the  popular  view  does  at  least  tend 
in  this  direction.  That  is  to  say,  the  every-day  habit,  when  consider¬ 
ing  the  external  world,  of  abstracting  from  particular  minds,  leads  on 
insensibly  to  that  complete  detachment  of  it  from  mind  in  general 
which  expresses  itself  in  the  first  stage  of  philosophic  reflection,  crude 
realism.  The  physicist  appears  to  me,  both  from  the  first  essays  in  Greek 
“nature-philosophy,”  as  also  from  the  not  infrequent  confusion  even 
to-day  between  a  perfectly  safe  “scientific  materialism”  and  a  highly 
questionable  philosophic  materialism,  to  share  in  this  tendency  to  take 
separate  consideration  for  separate  existence.  Each  new  stage  of 
abstraction  in  physical  science  gives  birth  to  a  new  attempt  to  find  an 
independent  reality,  a  tliing-in-itself,  hid  len  further  away  from  sense 


350 


RESULTS. 


special  study  has  a  very  close  connection  with  the 
philosophic  inquiry.  What  philosophy  wants  is  some¬ 
thing  intuitively  certain  as  its  starting-point,  some 
point  d'appui  for  its  construction.  The  errors  incident 
to  the  process  of  reasoning  do  not  greatly  trouble  it,, 
since  these  can,  in  general,  be  guarded  against  by  the 
rules  of  logic.  But  error  in  the  midst  of  what,  on  the 
face  of  it,  looks  like  intuitive  knowledge  naturally 
raises  the  question,  Is  there  any  kind  of  absolutely 
certain  cognition,  any  organ  for  the  accurate  perception 
of  truth  ?  And  this  intimate  relation  between  the 
scientific  and  the  philosophic  consideration  of  illusion 
is  abundantly  illustrated  in  the  history  of  philosophy. 
The  errors  of  sense,  appearing  in  a  region  which  to 
the  vulgar  seems  so  indubitable,  have  again  and  again 
set  men  thinking  on  the  question,  “  What  is  the 
whole  range  of  illusion  ?  Is  perception,  as  popularly 
understood,  after  all,  a  big  hallucination  ?  Is  our  life  a 
dream  ?  ”1 

On  the  other  hand,  if  our  study  of  the  wide  range 
of  illusion  is  fitted  to  induce  that  temper  of  mind 
which  is  said  to  be  the  beginning  of  philosophy,  that 
attitude  of  universal  doubt  expressed  by  Descartes  in 
his  famous  maxim,  De  omnibus  dubitandum,  a  con¬ 
sideration  of  the  process  of  correction  is  fitted  to  lead 
the  mind  on  to  the  determination  of  the  conditions  of 
accurate  knowledge.  It  is  evident,  indeed,  that  the 
very  conception  of  an  illusion  implies  a  criterion  of 
certainty :  to  call  a  thing  illusory,  is  to  judge  it  by  re¬ 
ference  to  some  accepted  standard  of  truth. 

1  See  the  interesting  autobiographical  record  of  the  growth  of 
philosophic  doubt  in  the  Premiere  Meditation  of  Descartes. 


CORRECTION  OF  ILLUSION. 


351 


The  mental  processes  involved  in  detecting,  resist¬ 
ing,  and  overcoming  illusion,  are  a  very  interesting 
subject  for  the  psychologist,  though  we  have  not  space 
here  to  investigate  them  fully.  Turning  to  presenta- 
tive,  and  more  particularly  sense-illusions,  we  find  that 
the  detection  of  an  illusion  takes  place  now  by  au 
appeal  from  one  sense  to  another,  for  example,  from 
sight  to  touch,  by  way  of  verification ; 1  now  (as  in 
Myer’s  experiment)  by  a  reference  from  sense  and 
presentation  altogether  to  representation  or  remem¬ 
bered  experience  and  a  process  of  reasoning ;  and  now, 
(as  in  the  illusions  of  art)  conversely,  by  a  transition 
of  mind  from  what  is  suggested  to  the  actual  sense- 
impression  of  the  moment.  In  the  sphere  of  me¬ 
mory,  again,  illusion  is  determined,  as  such,  now  by 
attending  more  carefully  to  the  contents  of  memory, 
now  by  a  process  of  reasoning  from  some  presentative 
cognition.  Finally,  errors  in  our  comprehensive 
general  representations  of  things  are  known  to  be  such 
partly  by  reasoning  from  other  conceptions,  and  partly 
by  a  continual  process  of  reduction  of  representation 
to  presentation,  the  general  to  the  particular.  I  may 
add  that  the  correction  of  illusion  by  an  act  of  re¬ 
flection  and  reasoning,  which  brings  the  part  into 
consistent  relation  with  the  whole  of  experience, 
includes  throughout  the  comparison  of  the  individual 
with  the  collective  or  social  experience.2 

1  The  appeal  is  not,  as  we  have  seen,  invariably  from  sight  to  touch, 
but  may  be  in  the  reverse  direction,  as  in  the  recognition  of  the 
duality  of  the  points  of  a  pair  of  compasses,  which  seem  one  to  tlio 
tactual  sense. 

2  I  might  further  remark  that  this  “  collective  experience  ”  includes 
previously  detected  illusions  of  ourselves  and  of  others. 


352 


RESULTS. 


We  may,  perhaps,  roughly  summarize  these  opera¬ 
tions  by  saying  that  they  consist  in  the  control  of  the 
lower  automatic  processes  (association  or  suggestion) 
by  the  higher  activities  of  conscious  will.  This  activity 
of  will  takes  the  form  now  of  an  effort  of  attention  to 
what  is  directly  present  to  the  mind  (sense-impression, 
internal  feeling,  mnemonic  image,  etc.),  now  of  con¬ 
scious  reflection,  judgment,  and  reasoning,  by  which  the 
error  is  brought  into  relation  to  our  experience  as  a 
whole,  individual  and  collective. 

It  is  for  the  philosopher  to  investigate  the  inmost 
nature  of  these  operations  as  they  exhibit  themselves 
in  our  every-day  individual  experience,  and  in  the 
large  intellectual  movements  of  history.  In  no  better 
way  can  he  arrive  at  what  common  sense  and  science 
regard  as  certain  cognition,  at  the  kinds  of  knowledge 
on  which  they  are  wont  to  rely  most  unhesitatingly. 

There  is  one  other  relation  of  our  subject  to  philo¬ 
sophic  problems  which  I  have  purposely  left  for  final 
consideration.  Our  study  has  consisted  mainly  in  the 
psychological  analysis  of  illusions  supposed  to  be  known 
or  capable  of  being  known  as  such.  Now,  the  modern 
association  school  professes  to  be  able  to  resolve  some 
of  the  so-called  intuitions  of  common  sense  into  ele¬ 
ments  exactly  similar  to  those  into  which  we  have 
here  been  resolving  what  are  acknowledged  by  all  as 
illusions.  This  fact  would  seem  to  point  to  a  close 
connection  between  the  scientific  study  of  illusion  and 
the  particular  view  of  these  fundamental  intuitions 
taken  by  one  philosophic  school.  Iu  order  to  see 
whether  there  is  really  this  connection,  we  must  reflect 


PSYCHOLOGY  AS  SCIENCE. 


353 


a  little  further  on  the  nature  of  the  method  which  we 
have  been  pursuing. 

I  have  already  had  occasion  to  use  the  expression 
“  scientific  psychology,”  or  psychology  as  a  positive 
science,  and  the  meaning  of  this  expression  must  now 
be  more  carefully  considered.  As  a  positive  science, 
psychology  is  limited  to  the  function  of  analyzing 
mental  states,  and  of  tracing  their  origin  in  previous 
and  more  simple  mental  states.  It  has,  strictly  speak¬ 
ing,  nothing  to  do  with  the  question  of  the  legitimacy 
or  validity  of  any  mental  act. 

Take  a  percept,  for  example.  Psychology  can  trace 
its  parentage  in  sensation,  the  mode  in  which  it  has 
come  by  its  contents  in  the  laws  of  association.  But 
by  common  consent,  a  percept  implies  a  presentative 
apprehension  of  an  object  now  present  to  sense.  Is 
this  valid  or  illusory  ?  This  question  psychology,  as 
science,  does  not  attempt  to  answer.  It  would  not,  I 
conceive,  answer  it  even  if  it  were  able  to  make  out 
that  the  whole  mental  content  in  the  percept  can  be 
traced  back  to  elementary  sensations  and  their  combi¬ 
nations.  For  the  fact  that  in  the  chemistry  of  mind 
elements  may  combine  in  perfectly  new  forms  does  not 
disprove  that  the  forms  thus  arising,  whether  senti¬ 
ments  or  quasi-cognitions,  are  invalid.  Much  less  can 
psychology  dispute  the  validity  of  a  percept  if  it  cannot 
be  sure  that  the  mind  adds  nothing  to  sensation  and 
its  grouping ;  that  in  the  genesis  of  the  perceptive  state, 
with  its  intuition  of  something  external  and  now  pre¬ 
sent  as  object,  nothing  like  a  form  of  intelligence  is 
superimposed  on  the  elements  of  sensation,  giving  to 
the  result  of  their  coalescence  the  particular  unity 


354 


RESULTS. 


which  we  find.  Whether  psychology  as  a  positive 
science  can  ever  he  sure  of  this:  whether,  that  is  to 
say,  it  can  answer  the  question,  “  How  do  we  come  by 
the  idea  of  object  ?  ”  without  assuming  some  particular 
philosophic  or  extra-scientific  theory  respecting  the 
ultimate  nature  of  mind,  is  a  point  which  I  purposely 
leave  open. 

I  would  contend,  then,  that  the  psychologist,  in 
tracing  the  genesis  of  the  percept  out  of  previous 
mental  experiences,  no  more  settles  the  question,  What 
is  the  object  of  perception?  than  the  physirist  settles 
it  in  referring  the  sense-impression  (and  so  the  percept) 
to  a  present  material  agent  as  its  condition. 

The  same  applies  to  our  idea  of  self.  I  may  dis¬ 
cover  the  concrete  experiences  which  supply  the  filling 
in  of  the  idea,  and  yet  not  settle  the  question,  Does  in¬ 
telligence  add  anything  in  the  construction  of  the 
form  of  this  idea?  and  still  less  settle  the  question 
whether  there  is  any  real  unity  answering  to  the 
idea. 

If  this  is  a  correct  distinction,  if  psychology,  as 
science,  does  not  determine  questions  of  validity  or 
objective  meaning  but  only  of  genesis,  if  it  looks  at 
mental  states  in  relation  only  to  their  temporal  and 
causal  concomitants  and  not  to  their  objects,  it  must 
follow  that  our  preceding  analysis  of  illusion  involves 
no  particular  philosophic  theory  as  to  the  nature  of 
intelligence,  but,  so  far  as  accurate,  consists  of  scientific 
facts  which  all  philosophic  theories  of  intelligence 
must  alike  he  prepared  to  accept.  And  I  have  little 
doubt  that  each  of  the  two  great  opposed  doctrines, 
the  intuitive  and  the  assoc iational,  would  claim  to  be 


PSYCHOLOGY  AS  PHILOSOPHY. 


355 


in  a  position  to  take  up  these  facts  into  its  particular 
theory,  and  to  view  them  in  its  own  way. 

But  in  addition  to  this  scientific  psychology,  there 
is  another  so-called  psychology,  which  is,  strictly 
speaking,  philosophic.  This,  I  need  hardly  say,  is 
the  association  philosophy.  It  proceeds  by  analyzing 
certain  cognitions  and  sentiments  into  their  elements, 
and  straightway  declaring  that  they  mean  nothing 
more  than  these.  That  is  to  say,  the  associationist 
passes  from  genesis  to  validity,  from  the  history  of  a 
conscious  state  to  its  objective  meaning.  Thus,  from 
showing  that  an  intuitive  belief,  say  that  in  causation, 
is  not  original  (in  the  individual  or  at  least  in  the 
race),  it  goes  on  to  assert  that  it  is  not  a  valid  imme¬ 
diate  cognition  at  all.  Now,  I  am  not  concerned  here 
to  inquire  into  the  logical  value  of  this  transition,  but 
simply  to  point  out  that  it  is  extra-scientific  and  dis¬ 
tinctly  philosophic.  If  logically  justifiable,  it  is  so 
because  of  some  plainly  philosophic  assumption,  as  that 
made  by  Hume,  namely,  that  all  ideas  not  derived 
from  impressions  are  to  this  extent  fictitious  or  illusory. 

And  now  we  are  in  a  position  to  understand  the 
bearing  of  our  scientific  analysis  of  acknowledged 
illusions  on  the  associationist’s  treatment  of  the  alleged 

O 

illusions  of  common  sense.  There  is  no  doubt,  I  think, 
that  some  of  the  so-called  intuitions  of  common  sense 
have  points  of  analogy  to  acknowledged  illusions.  For 
example,  the  conviction  in  the  act  of  perception  that 
something  external  to  the  mind  and  independent  of  it 
exists,  has  a  certain  superficial  resemblance  to  an  hallu¬ 
cination  of  sense ;  and  moreover,  the  associationist  seeks 
to  explain  it  by  means  of  these  very  processes  which 


356 


RESULTS. 


underlie  what  is  recognized  by  all  as  sense-illusion.1 
Again,  it  may  be  said  that  our  notions  of  force  and  of  a 
causal  nexus  in  the  physical  world  imply  the  idea  of 
conscious  energy  as  known  through  our  muscular 
sensations,  and  so  have  a  suspicious  resemblance  to 
those  anthropomorphic  illusions  of  which  I  have  spoken 
under  Illusions  of  Insight.  Once  more,  the  conscious¬ 
ness  of  freedom  may,  as  I  have  suggested,  be  viewed 
as  analogous  in  its  form  and  its  mode  of  origin  to 
illusions  of  introspection.  As  a  last  example,  it  may 
be  said  that  the  mind’s  certain  conviction  of  the  in¬ 
nateness  of  some  of  its  ideas  resembles  those  illusions 
of  memory  which  arise  through  an  inability  to  think 
ourselves  back  into  a  remote  past  having  a  type  of 
consciousness  widely  unlike  that  of  the  present. 

But  now,  mark  the  difference.  In  our  scientific 
analysis  of  popularly  known  illusions,  we  had  something 
by  which  to  determine  the  illusory  character  of  the 
presentation  or  belief.  We  had  a  popularly  or  scien¬ 
tifically  accepted  standard  of  certainty,  by  a  reference 
to  which  we  might  test  the  particular  soi-disant  cogni¬ 
tion.  But  in  the  case  of  these  fundamental  beliefs  we 
have  no  such  criterion,  except  we  adopt  some  particular 
philosophic  theory,  say  that  of  the  associationist  him¬ 
self.  Hence  this  similarity  in  structure  and  origin 
cannot  in  itself  be  said  to  amount  to  a  proof  of  equality 
of  logical  or  objective  value.  Here  again  it  must  be 
remarked  that  origin  does  not  carry  validity  or  in¬ 
validity  with  it.2 

1  M.  Taine  frankly  teaches  that  what  is  commonly  called  accurate 
perception  is  a  “  true  hallucination  ”  (Be  VIntelliijen.ee,  2ieme  partie, 
Livre  I.  ch.  i.  sec.  3). 

2  It  only  seems  to  do  so,  apart  from  philosophic  assumptions,  in 


FUNDAMENTAL  ILLUSIONS. 


357 


We  thus  come  back  to  our  starting-point.  While 
there  are  close  relations,  psychological  and  logical, 
between  the  scientific  study  of  the  ascertained  facts  of 
illusion  and  the  philosophic  determination  of  what  is 
illusory  in  knowledge  as  a  whole,  the  two  domains 
must  be  clearly  distinguished.  On  purely  scientific 
ground  we  cannot  answer  the  question,  “  How  far  does 
illusion  extend  ?  ”  The  solution  of  this  question  must 
be  handed  over  to  the  philosopher,  as  one  aspect  of  his 
problem  of  cognition. 

One  or  two  remarks  may,  perhaps,  be  hazarded  in 
concluding  this  account  of  the  relation  of  the  scientific 
to  the  philosophic  problem  of  illusion.  Science,  as 
we  have  seen,  takes  its  stand  on  a  stable  consensus,  a 
body  of  commonly  accepted  belief.  And  this  being  so, 
it  would  seem  to  follow,  that  so  far  as  she  is  allowed 
to  interest  herself  in  philosophic  questions,  she  will 
naturally  be  disposed  to  ask.  What  beliefs  are  shared  in 
by  all  minds,  so  far  as  normal  and  developed  ?  In 
other  words,  she  will  be  inclined  to  look  at  universality 

certain  cases  where  experience  testifies  to  a  uniform  untrustworthi- 
ness  of  the  origin.  For  example,  we  may,  on  grounds  of  matter  of 
fact  and  experience,  be  disposed  to  distrust  any  belief  that  we 
recognize  as  springing  from  an  emotional  source,  from  the  mind’s 
feelings  and  wishes. 

I  may  add  that  a  so-called  intuitivo  belief  may  refer  to  a  matter  of 
fact  which  can  be  tested  by  the  facts  of  experience  and  by  scientific 
methods.  Thus,  for  example,  the  old  and  now  exploded  form  of  the 
doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  which  declared  that  children  were  born  wi«th 
certain  ideas  ready  made,  might  be  tested  by  observation  of  childhood, 
and  reasoning  from  its  general  intellectual  condition.  The  same 
applies  to  the  physiological  theories  of  space-perception,  supposed  to 
be  based  on  Kant’s  doctrine,  put  forward  in  Germany  by  Johannes 
Muller  and  the  “nativistic  school.”  (See  my  exposition  and  criticism 
of  these  doctrines  in  Mind,  April,  1878,  pp.  168-178  and  193-103  ) 


358 


RESULTS. 


as  the  main  thing  to  be  determined  in  the  region  of 
philosophic  inquiry.  The  metaphysical  sceptic,  fond 
of  daring  exploits,  may  break  up  as  many  accepted 
ideas  as  he  likes  into  illusory  debris,  provided  only  he 
has  some  bit  of  reality  left  to  take  his  stand  on. 
Meanwhile,  the  scientific  mind,  here  agreeing  with 
the  practical  mind,  will  ask,  “Will  the  beliefs  thus 
said  to  be  capable  of  being  shown  to  be  illusory  ever 
cease  to  exercise  their  hold  on  men’s  minds,  including 
that  of  the  iconoclast  himself  ?  Is  the  mode  of  demon¬ 
stration  of  such  a  kind  as  to  be  likely  ever  to 
materially  weaken  the  common-sense  ‘  intuition  ’  ?  ” 

This  question  would  seem  to  be  most  directly  an¬ 
swerable  by  an  appeal  to  individual  testimony.  Viewed 
in  this  light,  it  is  a  question  for  the  present,  for  some 
few  already  allege  that  in  their  case  philosophic  reason¬ 
ings  exercise  an  appreciable  effect  on  these  beliefs. 
And  so  far  as  this  is  so,  the  man  of  scientific  temper 
will  feel  that  there  is  a  question  for  him. 

It  is  evident,  however,  that  the  question  of  the 
persistence  of  these  fundamental  beliefs  is  much  more 
one  for  the  future  than  for  the  present.  The  correction 
of  a  clearly  detected  illusion  is,  as  I  have  more  than 
once  remarked,  a  slow  process.  An  illusion  such  as  the 
apparent  movement  of  the  sun  will  persist  as  a 
partially  developed  error  long  after  it  has  been  con¬ 
victed.  And  it  may  be  that  the  fundamental  beliefs 
here  referred  to,  even  if  presumably  illusory,  are 
destined  to  exercise  their  spell  for  long  ages  yet. 

Whether  this  will  be  the  case  or  not,  whether  these 
intuitive  beliefs  are  destined  slowly  to  decay  and  be 
dissolved  as  time  rolls  on,  or  whether  they  will  retain 


PERSISTENCE  OF  INTUITIONS. 


359 


an  eternal  youth,  is  a  question  which  we  of  to-day  seem, 
on  a  first  view  of  the  matter,  to  have  no  way  of  an¬ 
swering  which  does  not  assume  the  very  point  in 
question— the  truth  or  falsity  of  the  belief.  This 
much  may,  however,  be  said.  The  associationist  who 
resolves  these  erroneous  intuit'ons  into  the  play  of 
association,  admits  that  the  forces  at  work  generating 
and  consolidating  the  illusory  belief  are  constant  and 
permanent  forces,  and  such  as  are  not  likely  to  be  less 
effective  in  the'future  than  they  have  been  in  the  past 
Thus,  he  teaches  that  the  intuition  of  the  single  object 
in  the  act  of  perception  owes  its  strength  to  “  in¬ 
separable  association,”  according  to  which  law  the 
ideas  of  the  separate  “  possibilities  of  sensation,”  which 
are  all  we  know  of  the  object,  coalesce  in  the  shape 
of  an  idea  of  a  single  uniting  substance.  He  adds, 
perhaps,  that  heredity  has  tended,  and  will  still  tend, 
to  fix  the  habit  of  thus  transforming  an  actual  multi¬ 
plicity  into  an  imaginary  unity.  And  in  thus  arguing, 
he  is  allowing  that  the  illusion  is  one  which,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  it  will  always  be  exceedingly  difficult 
for  reason  to  dislodge. 

In  view  of  this  uncertainty,  and  of  the  possibility, 
if  not  the  probability,  of  these  beliefs  remaining  as 
they  have  remained,  at  least  approximately  universal, 
the  man  of  science  will  probably  be  disposed  to 
hold  himself  indifferently  to  the  question.  He  will  b6 
inclined  to  say,  “What  does  it  matter  whether  you 
call  such  an  apparently  permanent  belief  the  cor¬ 
relative  of  a  reality  or  an  illusion?  Does  it  make 
any  practical  difference  whether  a  universal  ‘  intui¬ 
tion,’  of  which  we  cannot  rid  ourselves,  be  described 


360 


RESULTS. 


as  a  uniformly  recurring  fiction  of  the  imagination, 
or  an  integral  constitutive  factor  of  intelligence? 
And,  in  considering  the  historical  aspect  of  the  ques¬ 
tion,  does  it  not  come  to  much  the  same  thing  whether 
such  permanent  mental  products  be  spoken  of  as  the 
attenuated  forms  or  ghostly  survivals  of  more  sub¬ 
stantial  primitive  illusions  (for  example,  anthropo¬ 
morphic  representations  of  material  objects,  ‘animistic’ 
representations  of  mind  and  personality),  or  as  the 
slowly  perfected  results  of  intellectual  evolution  ?  ” 
This  attitude  of  the  scientific  mind  towards  philo¬ 
sophic  problems  will  be  confirmed  when  it  is  seen  that 
those  who  seek  to  resolve  stable  common  convictions 
into  illusions  are  forced,  by  their  very  mode  of  demon¬ 
stration,  to  allow  these  intuitions  a  measure  of  validity. 
Thus,  the  ideas  of  the  unity  and  externality  attributed 
to  the  object  in  the  act  of  perception  are  said  by  the 
association ist  to  answer  to  a  matter  of  fact,  namely, 
the  permanent  coexistence  of  certain  possibilities  of 
sensation,  and  the  dependence  of  the  single  sensations 
of  the  individual  on  the  presence  of  the  most  permanent 
of  these  possibilities,  namely,  those  of  the  active  or 
muscular  and  passive  sensations  of  touch,  which  are, 
moreover,  by  far  the  most  constant  for  all  minds. 
Similarly,  the  idea  of  a  necessary  connection  between 
cause  and  effect,  even  if  illusory  in  so  far  as  it  expresses 
an  objective  necessity,  is  allowed  to  be  true  as  an  ex¬ 
pression  of  that  uniformity  of  our  experience  which  all 
scientific  progress  tends  to  illustrate  more  and  more 
distinctly.  And  even  the  idea  of  a  permanent  self,  as 
distinct  from  particular  fugitive  feelings,  is  admitted 
by  the  associationist  to  be  correct  in  so  far  as  it  ex- 


TRUTH  AND  INTELLECTUAL  CONSENSUS.  361 


presses  the  fact  that  mind  is  “a  series  of  feelings 
which  is  aware  of  itself  as  past  and  future.”  In  short, 
these  “illusory  intuitions,”  by  the  showing  of  those 
who  affirm  them  to  be  illusory,  are  by  no  means  hal¬ 
lucinations  having  no  real  object  as  their  correlative, 
but  merely  illusions  in  the  narrow  sense,  and  illusions, 
moreover,  in  which  the  ratio  of  truth  to  error  seems 
to  be  a  large  one. 

It  would  thus  appear  that  philosophy  tends,  after 
all,  to  unsettle  what  appear  to  be  permanent  con¬ 
victions  of  the  common  mind  and  the  presuppositions 
of  science  much  less  than  is  sometimes  imagined.  Our 
intuitions  of  external  realities,  our  indestructible  belief 
in  the  uniformity  of  nature,  in  the  nexus  of  cause 
and  effect,  and  so  on,  are,  by  the  admission  of  all 
philosophers,  at  least  partially  and  relatively  true ; 
that  is  to  say,  true  in  relation  to  certain  features  of 
our  common  experience.  At  the  worst,  they  can  only 
be  called  illusory  as  slightly  misrepresenting  the  exact 
results  of  this  experience.  And  even  so,  the  mis¬ 
representation  must,  by  the  very  nature  of  the  case, 
be  practically  insignificant.  And  so  in  full  view  of 
the  subtleties  of  philosophic  speculation,  the  man  of 
science  may  still  feel  justified  in  regarding  his  standard 
of  truth,  a  stable  consensus  of  belief,  as  above 
suspicion. 


INDEX. 


A. 

Abercrombie,  Dr.  J.,  141,  note  ', 
278. 

Abnormal  life,  relation  of,  to  nor¬ 
mal,  1,  120,  121,  124,  182,  277, 
284,  note  *,  336 ;  effects  of 
amputation,  62 ;  modification  of 
sensibility  in,  65 ;  gross  sense- 
illusions  of,  111,  hallucinations 
of,  118 ;  sense  of  personal  iden¬ 
tity  in,  289. 

Active,  stage  in  perception,  27  ; 
illusion  distinguished  from  pas¬ 
sive,  45,  332-334. 

Actor.  See  Theatre. 

Adaptation,  illusion  as  want  of, 
124, 188,  339. 

iEsthetic  intuition,  213  ;  illusions 
of,  214. 

After-dreams,  144,  183. 

After-sensation,  after-impression, 

55, 115. 

Anaesthesia,  65. 

Ancestral  experience,  results  of, 
281. 

Animals,  recognition  of  portraits 
by,  105  ;  expectation  of,  298. 

Anthropomorphism,  225,  360. 

Anticipation.  See  Expectation. 

Apparitions.  See  Hallucination. 

Aristotle,  130. 

Art,  illusions  of,  77,  104. 

Artemidoros,  129. 


Association,  laws  of,  in  percep. 
tion,  22 ;  in  dreams,  153,  166  ; 
link  of  resemblance  in  dreams, 
159  ;  associative  dispositions  in 
dreams,  169;  effect  of,  in  insight, 
221 ;  inseparable,  359. 

Associationist,  views  of,  349,  352, 
355. 

Attention,  involved  in  perception, 
21 ;  absence  of,  in  sense-illusion, 
39,  87  ;  relation  of,  to  recogni¬ 
tion  of  objects,  90  ;  expectant, 
93 ;  attitude  of,  in  dreaming, 
137,  172 ;  to  internal  mental 
states,  194 ;  absence  of,  in 
errors  of  insight,  228. 

Authority,  influence  of,  in  intro¬ 
spection,  210  ;  in  belief,  325. 

Autobiography,  errors  connected 
with,  276,  280. 

Automatic  activity  of  centres,  in 
hallucinations,  113  ;  in  dreams, 
136, 151 ;  automatic  intellectual 
processes,  300,  335,  352. 

B, 

Baillarger,  J.,  13,  note1 ,113,  note ', 
119,  notes  1  and  *,  120,  note  '. 

Bain, Dr.  A.,  32,  note  *,  117,  note2, 
190. 

Beattie,  J.,  141,  note1. 

Beauty,  sentiment  of,  206,  213. 

Belief,  immediate,  14,  15,  294; 


364 


INDEX. 


simple  and  compound,  296  ; 
illusory  forms  of,  297 ;  simple 
expectation,  297  ;  expectation 
of  extra-personal  experiences, 
307 ;  retrospective,  309 ;  in 
persistent  objects  and  persons, 
312 ;  self-esteem,  315  ;  repre¬ 
sentation  of  classes  of  things, 
322;  representations  of  man¬ 
kind,  322 ;  representation  of 
life  and  the  world  as  a  whole, 
322  ;  as  predisposition  to  error, 
324;  amount  of  divergence  in, 
325 ;  tendency  towards  con¬ 
vergence  in,  326. 

Beneficial,  correct  knowledge  as, 
340  ;  illusion  as,  3  42. 

Berkeley,  Bishop,  218, 349,  note  l. 

Binet,  A.,  53,  note  '. 

Boismont,  Brierre  de,  11,  note 

Burner,  J.,  146. 

Braid,  James,  186,  187. 

Brewster,  Sir  D.,  42,  73,  81,  116. 

Briicke,  E.,  77,  note  *. 

Byron,  Lord,  116. 

C. 

Carpenter,  Dr.  W.  B.,  32,  note  *, 
108,  110, (note  \  186,  231,  note  ’, 
265,  note  *,  276. 

Castle-building,  as  illusory  per¬ 
ception,  3,  99. 

Cause,  idea  of,  in  science,  344 ; 
reality  of  relation  of,  347,  349, 
356,  360. 

Change,  a  condition  of  conscious 
life,  252,  287,  note  '. 

Childhood,  our  recollections  of, 
263,  269. 

Children,  curiosity  of,  175,  180; 
estimate  of  time  by,  256 ;  con¬ 
fusion  of  dream  and  waking 
life  by,  276 ;  imagination  of, 
279 ;  self-assertion  of,  319 ; 
intellectual  condition  of,  357, 
note  *. 

Clarke,  Dr.  E.  H.,  117. 

Classification,  in  recognition  of 
sensation,  21 ;  in  recognition  of 


object,  24 ;  in  introspective 
recognition,  193. 

Clifford,  Professor  W.  K.,  56, 
note  *. 

Coalescence,  of  sensations,  43,  52 ; 
of  dream-images,  162  ;  of  inter¬ 
nal  feelings,  196  ;  of  mnemonic 
images,  265. 

Coensesthesis,  41,  99,  145,  286, 
288. 

Cognition,  immediate  or  intuitive, 
5,  14—16,  294 ;  presentative 
and  representative,  9,  13,  217, 

330  ;  nature  of,  in  dreams,  168, 
172;  nature  of,  generally,  295, 

331  ;  philosophic  problems  of, 
346. 

Colour,  external  reality  of,  8,  37 ; 
illusory  perception  of,  37,  88  ; 
subjective  complementary  co¬ 
lours  (colour-contrast),  67,  83. 

Coloured  media,  objects  seen 
through,  82. 

Common  cognition,  and  truth, 
337 ;  genesis  and  validity  of, 
353. 

Common  experience  distinguished 
from  individual,  26,  27,  137, 
209,  214,  336,  351 ;  illusion  as, 
47,325,  337. 

Common  sense,  intuitions  of,  346, 
349,  352,  357. 

Complementary  colours,  67,  83. 

Concave,  apparent  conversion  of, 
into  convex,  84'. 

Conjuror,  tricks  of,  56,  106. 

Consciousness,  veracity  of,  192, 
205 ;  inspection  of  phenomena 
of,  196  ;  of  self,  283,  285. 

Consensus,  the  standard  of  truth, 
7,  8,  211,  325,  338,  357. 

Conservation  of  energy,  343. 

Construction,  rational,  in  dreams, 
170. 

Continuum,  the  perception  of  the 
world  as,  52,  56,  note  *. 

Correction  of  illusion,  in  sense- 
illusion,  38,  124,  137 ;  dreams, 
182 ;  introspection,  210 ;  in¬ 
sight,  229 ;  memory,  291 ;  his. 


INDEX. 


365 


tori cal  correction,  338 ;  intel¬ 
lectual  processes  involved  in, 
351. 

Criterion  of  illusion,  337. 

Cudworth,  R.,  161 

D. 

Deception  of  the  senses,  19 ; 
self-deception,  200 ;  conscious 
deception  of  others,  222. 

Delboeuf,  J.,  175,  note  l,  235, 

note  *. 

Delirium  tremens,  118,  note  2. 

Democritus,  130. 

De  Quincey,  253,  280. 

Descartes,  R.,  116,  350. 

Dickens,  Charles,  277. 

Direction,  illusory  sense  of,  in 
vision,  66,  71,  73  ;  in  hearing, 
72,  75. 

Disease.  See  Abnormal  life. 

Dissolution.  See  Evolution. 

Doubt,  starting-point  in  philo¬ 
sophy,  350. 

Dreams,  relation  of,  to  illusions 
of  sense,  18,  130 ;  and  waking 
experience,  127 ;  theories  of, 
1 28 ;  physiology  of,  131 ;  extent 
of,  in  sleep,  132 ;  psychological 
conditions  of,  136  ;  excitants  of, 
139,  143;  exaggeration  in,  147; 
symbolism  of,  149;  as  results 
of  automatic  activity  of  centres, 
151  ;  as  results  of  association, 
153;  structure  of,  156;  in¬ 
coherent,  156  ;  coherent,  161  ; 
action  of  feeling  in,  164 ;  play 
of  associative  dispositions  in, 
168  ;  co-operation  of  attention 
and  intelligence  in,  172 ;  limits 
of  intelligence  in,  180  ;  after¬ 
dreams,  183,  274 ;  relation  of, 
to  hypnotic  condition,  185 ; 
experience  of,  in  relation  to 
errors  of  memory,  273. 

E. 

Eccentricity,  law  of,  59. 

Ego.  See  Self. 


Emotion,  and  illusion  of  percep¬ 
tion,  103  ;  and  hallucination, 
115 ;  and  bodily  sensations, 
150  ;  control  of  dreams  by,  164 ; 
inti'ospection  of,  199  ;  and  illu¬ 
sion  of  introspection,  203;  and 
aesthetic  intuition,  213  ;  and  illu¬ 
sion  of  memory,  270  ;  and  illu¬ 
sion  of  belief,  306,  324 ;  and 
cognition  generally,  357,  note  *. 

Empiricism,  philosophic,  34R. 

Ennui,  and  sense  of  time,  250. 

Environment,  sources  of  sense, 
illusion  in,  47,  48,  70  ;  view  of, 
in  mental  disease,  290,  326 ; 
view  of,  in  normal  life,  323 ; 
action  of,  in  assimilating  belief, 
339. 

Error,  immediate  and  mediate,  6, 
334. 

Esquirol,  J.  E.  D.,  12,  note  2. 

Evolution,  relation  of,  to  dissolu¬ 
tion,  122  ;  of  power  of  introspec¬ 
tion,  209  ;  of  power  of  insight, 
230 ;  and  self-assertion,  320  ; 
evolutionist’s  view  of  error, 
339 ;  doctrine  of,  as  science, 
346. 

Exaggeration,  in  interpretation  of 
sensations,  65 ;  in  dream-in¬ 
terpretation,  147 ;  in  memory, 
269. 

Expectation,  preliminary  to  per¬ 
ception,  30  ;  and  illusory  per¬ 
ception,  93,  102, 106  ;  nature  of, 
295  ;  and  memory,  298;  of  new 
experience,  301  ;  of  remote 
events,  302 ;  measurement  of 
duration  in,  302 ;  action  of 
imagination  in,  305 ;  extension 
of  meaning  of,  307,  308. 

Experience,  effect  of,  in  percep¬ 
tion,  22,  68,  85,  86,  91 ;  external 
and  internal,  194,  210  ;  revivals 
of  waking,  in  dreams,  152; 
effects  of  present,  on  retrospec¬ 
tion,  267  ;  anticipation  of  new) 
301. 

External  world.  See  World- 

1 


BCG 


INDEX. 


P. 

Fallacy  and  illusion,  6,  335;  of 
testimony,  265. 

Familiarity,  sense  of,  in  new 
objects,  272,  281. 

Fechner,  G.  T.,  51. 

Ferrier,  Dr.,  32,  note  ',  58,  note  *. 

Fiction,  as  producing  illusion, 

278,  279,  311. 

Fitness.  See  Adaptation. 

Flattery,  rationale  of,  200,  222. 

Forgetfulness  and  illusion,  278, 

279,  311. 

Free-will,  doctrine  of,  207,  342, 
356. 

Future.  See  Expectation. 

G. 

Galton,  F.,  117. 

Ghosts.  See  Hallucination. 

Goethe,  116,  117,  280  and  note  ’. 

Griesiuger,  W.,  13, note  l,  63,  note  *, 
66,  note  *,  115,  118,  note  2, 
119,  note  l,  120,  note  290, 
note  *,  327,  note  *. 

Gruithuisen,  143,  144. 

Gurney,  E.,  224,  note  l. 

H. 

Hall,  G.  S.,  186,  note  '. 

Hallucination,  and  illusion,  11, 
109,  111,  112,  121 ;  and  sub¬ 
jective  sensation,  63,  109,  121 ; 
sensory  and  motor,  66 ;  ner¬ 
vous  conditions  of,  112-114 ; 
incomplete  and  complete,  113  ; 
as  having  either  central  or 
peripheral  origin,  113  ;  causes 
of,  classified,  115 ;  in  sane 
condition,  116 ;  in  insanity, 
118  ;  visual  and  auditory,  119  ; 
dreams  regarded  as,  139,  151 ; 
hypnagogic,  143 ;  after-dreams 
and  ghosts,  183  ;  of  memory, 
271  ;  relation  of,  to  errors  of 
belief,  322  ;  intuition  of  ex¬ 
ternal  world  regarded  as,  355. 


Happiness,  feeling  of,  200. 

Harmful,  illusion  as,  188,  229 
292,  339. 

Harmless,  illusions  as,  124,  292, 
341. 

Hartley,  D.,  139,  256,  note  *, 
279. 

Hearing,  as  mode  of  perception, 
34,  48 ;  localization  of  impres¬ 
sion  in,  60  ;  sense  of  direction 
in,  72  ;  activity  of,  in  sleep, 
140  ;  and  muscular  sense,  171. 

Heidenhain,  Dr.,  186-188. 

Helmholtz,  H.,  22,  23,  note  *,  44, 
51,  54  and  note  55,  note  ', 
57,  67,  note  *,  78,  note  *,  80, 
85,  note  *,  88,  90,  207,  note  *. 

Heraclitus,  137. 

Heredity,  and  illusion  of  memory, 
280  ;  action  of,  in  perpetuating 
intuition,  359. 

Hering,  E.,  67,  note  *. 

Hodgson,  Shad  worth  H.,  347, 
note  2. 

Holland,  Sir  H.,  277. 

Hood,  Thomas,  146. 

Hope,  illusory.  See  Expectation. 

Hoppe,  Dr.  J.  I.,  51,  58,  note  '. 

Horwicz,  A.,  145,  note  1. 

Hume,  D.,  355. 

Huxley,  Professor  T.,  119,  note  '. 

Hyperaesthesia,  65. 

Hypnotism,  185. 

Hypochondria,  65. 

Hypothesis,  as  illusory,  310,  311. 

L 

Idealism,  348. 

Identity,  cases  of  mistaken,  267. 

Identity,  personal,  confusion  of,  in 
dreams,  163  ;  consciousness  of, 
241,  267,  282,  285 ;  illusory 
forms  of,  283  ;  gross  disturb- 
ances  of,  in  normal  life,  287 ;  in 
abnormal  life,  289  ;  momentary 
confusions  of,  293. 

Illusion,  definition  of,  1 ;  varieties 
of,  9  ;  extent  of,  328  ;  rationale 
of,  331,  337. 


INDEX. 


367 


Image  (physical).  See  Reflection. 

Image  (mental),  in  perception, 
22 ;  seat  of,  32 ;  in  dreams, 
138  ;  mnemonic,  236. 

Imagination,  play  of,  in  percep¬ 
tion,  95,  99  ;  and  sense-illusion, 
106;  nature  of,  in  dreaming, 
136,  161 ;  as  antecedent  of 
dream,  152,  158 ;  as  poetic 

interpretation  of  nature,  224  ; 
memory  corrupted  by  effect  of 
past,  264,  273,  277  ;  present, 
creating  the  semblance  of  recol¬ 
lection,  267,  271 ;  play  of,  in 
expectation,  305 ;  as  element 
of  illusion  generally,  333. 

Immediate.  See  Cognition. 

Individual,  and  common  experi¬ 
ence,  26,  27,  137,  209,  214,  336  ; 
dream-experience  as,  44,  68 ; 

•  internal  experience  as,  209 ; 
memory  as,  232 ;  belief  and 
truth,  338. 

Inference,  and  immediate  know¬ 
ledge,  6,  334 ;  in  perception, 
22,  26,  68 ;  in  belief,  295. 

Innate,  recollection  as,  280;  prin¬ 
ciples,  295,  356. 

Insane,  sense-illusions  of,  63,  65, 
111  ;  hallucinations  of,  118 ; 
dreaming  and  state  of,  182  ; 
mnemonic  illusions  of,  278, 
289  ;  beliefs  of,  327. 

Insight,  nature  of,  217 ;  illusions 
of,  defined,  220 ;  passive  illu¬ 
sions  of,  220;  histrionic  illusion, 
222  ;  active  illusions  of,  223  ; 
poetic  interpretation  of  nature, 
224 ;  value  of  faculty  of,  228. 

Interpretation,  in  correct  percep¬ 
tion,  22 ;  of  impression  and 
experience,  70 ;  and  volition, 
95 ;  and  fixed  habits  of  mind, 
101 ;  and  temporary  attitude  of 
mind,  102 ;  of  sensations  in 
dreams,  137,  147 ;  of  internal 
feelings,  203 ;  of  others’  feel¬ 
ings,  217 ;  of  nature  by  poet, 
225  ;  recollection  as,  242. 

Introspection,  nature  of,  14,  189; 


illusory  ft  rms  of,  190 ;  con¬ 
fusion  of  inner  and  outer  ex¬ 
periences,  194 ;  inaccurate  in¬ 
spection  of  feelings,  196 ;  pre¬ 
sentation  and  representation 
confused,  199  ;  feelings  and 
inferences  from  these,  203 ; 
moral  self  -  scrutiny,  204 ; 
philosophic,  205 ;  value  of, 
208. 

Intuition.  See  Cognition. 

Intuitivism,  348. 

J. 

Jackson,  Dr.  J.  Hnghlings,  27, 
note  2,  33,  123,  note 

Johnson,  Dr.,  116. 

K. 

Klang,  as  compound  sensation, 
53. 

Knowledge.  See  Cognition. 

L. 

Language,  function  of,  195. 

Leibnitz,  133. 

Lelut,  L.  F.,  120,  note  *. 

Lessing,  G.  E.,  133,  note  *. 

Leuret,  290,  note  L 

Lewes,  G.  H.,  28,  32,  note  *,  52, 
note  *,  62,  note  *,  68,  note  ',  89, 
note  ’,  115,  note  *,  150. 

Life,  our  estimate  of,  323,  326, 
327. 

Light,  sensation  and  perception 
of,  59  ;  effects  of  reflection  and 
refraction  of,  73  ;  represen¬ 
tation  of,  in  painting,  88,  91 ; 
action  of,  in  sleep,  140. 

Localization,  as  local  discrimina¬ 
tion  of  sensations,  52;  as  lo¬ 
calizing  of  sensations,  59,  60 ; 
illusory,  61,  82 ;  in  halluci. 
nation,  118,  119;  in  dreaming, 
148 ;  of  events  in  time,  in 
memory,  238,  245 ;  in  expec¬ 
tation,  304. 


868 


INDEX. 


Locke,  133,  note  *. 

Lotze,  H.,  60,  note  !. 

Lover,  illusion  of,  224,  227,  342. 
Luminosity  of  paiuting,  88,  91. 
Lustre,  as  compound  sensation,  54. 
Lyell,  Sir  Charles,  311. 


M. 

Magic,  arts  of,  73. 

Magnitude,  apparent,  in  vision,  75, 
note  2;  perception  of,  in  pic¬ 
torial  art,  88,  91  ;  of  time-in¬ 
tervals,  245,  249 ;  recollection 
of,  268. 

Malebranche,  116. 

Mankind,  our  views  of,  322. 

Matter.  See  World  (material). 

Maudsley,  Dr.  H.,  32,  note  ’. 

Maury,  A.,  140,  143, 153,  note  *, 
159,  163,  note1,  173. 

Mayer,  Dr.  A.,  66,  note  *. 

Measurement,  subjective,  of  time, 
245. 

Media,  coloured,  illusions  con¬ 
nected  with  presence  of,  82. 

Memory,  nature  of,  9,  13,  231 ; 
veracity  of,  232,  290  ;  defined, 
234 ;  psychology  of,  236 ; 
physiology  -of,  237;  localization 
of  events  in,  238  ;  and  sense  of 
personal  identity,  241,  283  ; 
illusions  of,  241 ;  illusory  locali¬ 
zation,  245,  256 ;  distortions  of, 
261 ;  hallucinations  of,  271 ; 
illusions  respecting  personal 
identity,  283 ;  relation  of,  to 
belief,  295 ;  compared  with 
expectation,  297 ;  and  inference, 
335. 

Metempsychosis,  294. 

Meyer,  H.,  83,  144. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  298,  note  2,  309. 

Mirrors,  as  means  of  delusion,  73. 

Misanthropist,  2,  323. 

Mitchell,  Dr.  Weir,  62. 

Monomania,  111. 

Moral,  intuition,  216;  self-inspec¬ 
tion,  204. 


Motor  illusions.  See  Muscular 

sense. 

Movement,  apparent,  50,  57,  73, 
81,  95,  107 ;  in  dreams,  142, 
154. 

Muller,  Johannes,  58,  note  2,  100, 
117, 143. 

Musccb  volitantes,  118,  note  2. 

Muscular  sense,  in  perception,  23  ; 
illusions  connected  with,  50,  57, 
62,  66 ;  co-operation  of,  in 
dreams,  142,  154. 

Music,  subjective  interpretation 
of,  223. 

N. 

Natural  selection,  effect  of,  in 
eliminating  error,  340. 

Nature,  personification  of,  224 ; 
uniformity  of,  344,  360. 

Necessity,  idea  of,  349,  360. 

Nervous  system,  and  condi¬ 
tions  of  perception,  31 ;  con¬ 
nections  of,  32,  169 ;  function 
of,  and  force  of  stimulus,  47, 
50  ;  prolonged  activity  of,  55  ; 
specific  energy  of,  58 ;  varia¬ 
tions  in  state  of,  64;  fatigue 
of,  65,  115;  disease  of,  ibid. ; 
nervous  conditions  of  halluci¬ 
nation,  112,  115 ;  nervous  dis¬ 
solution  and  evolution,  122 ; 
condition  of,  in  sleep,  131  ;  in 
hypnotic  condition,  186 ;  ner¬ 
vous  conditions  of  memory,  237  ; 
nervous  conditions  of  illusion  in 
general,  334. 

Normal  life,  relation  of,  to  ab¬ 
normal,  1,  121,  124,  182,  277, 
284,  note  1 ;  hallucinations  of, 
116. 

O. 

Object,  nature  of,  36,  353. 

Objective  and  subjective  experi¬ 
ence,  26,  27,  137,  214. 

Old  age,  dreams  how  regarded  in, 

276. 


INDEX. 


369 


Oneirocritics,  129. 

Opera,  illusion  connected  with, 
104. 

Optimism,  323,  327,  342. 

Organic  sensations,  discrimination 
of,  41  j  interpretation  of,  99; 
in  sleep,  145,  148. 

Organism,  conditions  of  illusion 
in,  47,  50 ;  relation  of  our  con¬ 
ception  of  the  universe  to  sen¬ 
sibilities  of,  343. 

Orientation,  125,  138. 


P. 

Pain,  recollection  of,  264,  270. 

Painting,  representation  of  third 
dimension  by,  77;  apparent 
movement  of  eye  in  portrait, 
81 ;  discrepancies  between,  and 
object  in  magnitude  and  lumi¬ 
nosity,  88 ;  realization  of,  and 
mental  preparation,  105  ;  reali¬ 
zation  of,  by  animals,  105. 

Paraesthesia,  68. 

Paralysis  of  ocular  muscles,  66. 

Passive,  and  active  factor  in  per¬ 
ception,  27 ;  and  active  illusion, 
45. 

Percept,  22 ;  and  sense-impres¬ 
sion,  59. 

Perception,  a  form  of  immediate 
knowledge,  10,  13,  17,  18 ; 
external  and  internal,  14 ; 
philosophy  of,  14,  20,  22,  36, 
346,  348,  353,  355,  359;  illu¬ 
sions  of,  19,  35  ;  psychology  of, 
20;  and  inference,  22,  26,  76; 
physiological  conditions  of,  31. 

Persistent  objects,  representation 
of,  312. 

Persistent  self.  See  Personal 
identity. 

Personal  equation,  in  perception, 
101;  in  msthetic  intuition,  214; 
in  memory,  292 ;  in  belief,  324. 

Personal  identity,  consciousness 
of,  241,  282,  285;  illusions  con¬ 
nected  with,  283 ;  disturbances 

17 


in  sense  of,  287 ;  sense  of,  in 
insanity,  289;  momentary  con. 
fusions  of,  293 ;  philosophic  pro. 
blem  of,  285,  354, 360. 

Personification  of  nature,  224. 

Perspective,  linear,  79,  97,  98; 
aerial,  80;  of  memory,  245. 

Pessimism,  323,  327. 

Phenomenalism,  348. 

Philosophy,  conception  of  illusion 
by,  7,  36,  205, 285, 349 ;  of  mind, 
132,  285,  344,  348;  as  theory 
of  knowledge,  295,  346 ;  and 
science,  346,  348  ;  and  common 
sense,  347,  349;  problems  of, 
347. 

Phosphenes,  58. 

Physical  science.  See  Science. 

Plato,  2S1. 

Platonists,  349. 

Pleasure,  feeling  of,  200 ;  recol¬ 
lection  of,  264,  270. 

Plutarch,  133,  note  *. 

Poetry,  lyrical  and  dreams,  164; 
misinterpretation  of,  223 ;  per¬ 
sonification,  224. 

Points,  discrimination  of,  52. 

Poisons,  action  of,  115. 

Pollock,  F.,  184,  note  h 

Pollock,  W.  H.,  184. 

Predisposition,  action  of,  in  per¬ 
ception,  44,  101,  102 ;  in  aes¬ 
thetic  intuition,  215;  in  in¬ 
sight,  223 ;  in  recollection,  268; 
in  belief,  305,  319 ;  belief  as, 
324. 

Prejudice.  See  Predisposition. 

Prenatal  experience,  recollection 
of,  281. 

Preperception,  27 ;  illusions  con¬ 
nected  with,  44,  93  ;  voluntary, 
95 ;  result  of  habit  of  mind, 
101 ;  result  of  temporary  con¬ 
ditions,  102;  as  sub-expectation, 
102 ;  as  definite  expectation, 
106. 

Presentation  and  representation, 
9,  10,  13,  14, 192,  234,  329,  330. 

Projection,  outward,  of  sensa¬ 
tions,  63  ;  of  mental  image,  111, 


370 


INDEX. 


112 ;  of  solid  form  on  flat,  79, 
81,  96. 

Prophetio,  dreams  as,  129,  147, 
note  1 ;  enthusiast,  307. 

Psychology,  popular  and  scientific, 
9, 10 ;  distinguished  from  philo¬ 
sophy,  14,  36,  345,  352 ;  intro¬ 
spective  method  of,  208 ;  as  a 
kind  of  philosophy,  305. 

Public  events,  localization  of,  by 
memory,  258. 

R. 

Radestock,  P.,  130,  note ',  132, 
note  *,  134,  note  *,  140,  141, 
149,  note  »,  162,  182,  275. 

Rationalism,  philosophic,  348. 

Realism,  348. 

Reality,  nature  of,  36,  346. 

Recognition,  and  perception,  24, 
25 ;  illusions  of,  87  ;  and 
memory,  234. 

Reflection  (of  light),  illusions  con¬ 
nected  with,  73,  83. 

Refraction  and  optical  illusion,  73. 

Relative,  sensation  as,  64;  atten¬ 
tion  to  magnitude  and  bright¬ 
ness  as,  91  j  estimate  of  duration 
as,  249. 

Relief,  illusory  perception  of,  75, 
96. 

Representation  and  presentation, 
9,  10,  13, 14,  192. 

Retrospection.  See  Memory. 

Ribot,  T.,  238,  note  *,  290,  note  ’. 

Richter,  J.  P.,  143. 

Robertson,  Professor  G.  C.,  35, 
note  *. 

Romanes,  G.  J.,  105,  note  2 ,  250, 
note  2. 

Rousseau,  280. 

S. 

Savage,  dream  theory  of,  128 ; 
idea  of  nature  of,  225. 

Schemer,  C.  A.,  140,  149. 

Schopenhauer,  A.,  145,  342. 

Schroeder,  H.,  85. 


Science,  philosophy  and,  8,  36, 
285,  344;  conception  of  the 
material  world  in  physical,  36, 
343, 346,  347  ;  and  common  cog¬ 
nition,  338,  357. 

Scott,  Sir  W.,  116,  125. 

Secondary  qualifies,  36,  344. 

Selection,  process  of,  in  per¬ 
ception,  95  ;  in  dreams,  174 ;  in 
memory,  257,  263. 

Self,  confusion  of,  in  dreams,  163 ; 
introspective  knowledge  of,  192 ; 
self-deception,  200 ;  identity  of, 
241,  282,  285;  confusion  of  pre¬ 
sent  and  past,  267,  284  ;  dis¬ 
turbances  in  recognition  of,  287, 
289  ;  momentary  confusions  of, 
295;  confusion  of  present  and 
future,  305. 

Self-esteem,  illusion  of,  315 ; 
origin  of,  319 ;  utility  of,  342. 

Self-preservation,  320. 

Sensation,  element  in  perception, 
20;  discrimination  and  classifi¬ 
cation  of,  21 ;  interpretation  of, 
22 ;  inattention  to,  39,  87 ; 
modified  by  central  reaction,  39, 
87,  89,  91 ;  confusion  of  novel, 
40 ;  indistinct,  41 ;  misinter¬ 
pretation  of,  44 ;  relation  of,  to 
stimulus,  46,  50  ;  limits  to  dis¬ 
crimination  of,  52 ;  after-im¬ 
pression,  55;  subjective,  59,  62, 
107, 143  ;  localization  of,  59. 

Sensibility,  limits  of,  50 ;  varia¬ 
tions  of,  64. 

Sensualism,  philosophic,  348. 

Shadow,  cast-,  77. 

Shakespeare,  3. 

Sight,  mode  of  perception,  19,  33, 
34,  48,  49  ;  local  discrimination 
in,  52 ;  single  vision,  54 ; 
localization  of  impression  in,  60; 
in  sleep,  139;  images  of,  in  sleep, 
150, 154. 

Single,  vision,  54 ;  touch,  72. 

Sleep,  mystery  of,  127 ;  physiologv 
of,  131. 

Sleight  of  hand.  See  Conjuror. 

Smell,  as  mode  of  perception,  34, 


INDEX. 


371 


note  1 ;  localization  of  impres¬ 
sion  in,  60 ;  subjective  sensa¬ 
tions  of,  108 ;  in  sleep,  141 ; 
and  taste,  171. 

Solidity,  illusory  perception  of, 
75,  96. 

Space,  representation  of,  207. 

Specific  energy  of  nerves,  58. 

Spectra,  ocular,  etc.  See  Subjec¬ 
tive  sensation. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  32,  note  ',  128, 
note  323,  340. 

Spinoza,  143,  184. 

Spiritualist  seances,  103,  107,  123, 
265. 

Stereoscope,  75. 

Stewart,  Dugald,  172,  306. 

Stimulus,  qualitative  relation  of, 
to  sensations,  46,  58,  67 ;  quan¬ 
titative  relation  of,  to  sensation, 
50,64;  after-effect  of,  55 ;  pro¬ 
longed  action  of,  56 ;  subjective 
or  internal,  62 ;  exceptional 
relation  of,  to  organ,  70  ;  action 
of,  in  sleep,  135,  139,  143;  in 
hypnotic  condition,  186. 

Striiinpell,  L.,  144,  147,  note  2. 

Subjective,  experience,  26,  27, 
137,  214 ;  movement,  51,  57 ; 
sensation,  59,  62,  107,  113,  121, 
143. 

Suggestion,  by  external  circum¬ 
stances,  30,  44,  89,  91,  267; 
verbal,  30,  106,  188,  215,  238, 
301,310. 

Symbol,  dream  as,  129,  119. 

Sympathy,  basis  of  knowledge, 
223 ;  and  illusion  of  insight, 
223 ;  and  illusion  of  memory, 
277 ;  and  momentary  illusion, 
293. 

T. 

Taine,  H.,  60,  note  *,  108,  note  3, 
117,  note  >,  137,  298,  note  *, 
356,  note  *. 

Taste,  aesthetic.  See  ^Esthetic  in¬ 
tuition. 

Taste,  localization  of  impression 


in,  60  ;  snbjective  sensations  of, 
63 ;  variations  in  sensibility, 
68 ;  activity  of,  in  sleep,  141 
and  smell, 171. 

Temperament,  a  factor  in  sense- 
illusion,  101 ;  in  dreams,  137  ; 
in  illusory  belief,  325;  in  illu¬ 
sion  generally,  334,  note  l. 

Temperature,  sense  of,  65. 

Tennyson,  A.,  226. 

Testa,  A.  J.,  131. 

Testimony,  of  consciousness,  205  ; 
fallacies  of,  265 ;  to  identity, 
267. 

Thaumatrope,  56. 

Theatre,  illusion  of  the,  104,  222  ; 
self-deception  of  the  actor,  200. 

Thompson,  Professor  S.  P.,  51, 
note  *. 

Thought,  in  relation  to  belief,  326. 

Time,  retrospective  idea  of,  239, 
246,  250 ;  constant  error  in 
estimate  of,  245 ;  subjective 
estimate  of,  249 ;  contempora¬ 
neous  estimate  of,  250;  sense 
of,  in  insanity,  290;  prospective 
estimate  of,  303. 

Touch,  as  form  of  perception,  33, 
34,  49  ;  local  discrimination  in, 
52;  subjective  sensations  of,  62 ; 
variations  in  sensibility  of,  65  ; 
in  sleep,  141. 

Transformation,  in  perception,  94; 
of  images  in  dreams,  163 ;  in 
memory,  262,  267 ;  in  expecta¬ 
tion,  305. 

Trick.  See  Conjuror. 

Tuke,  Dr.,  110. 

Tylor,  E.  B.,  12S,  note 

U. 

Unconscious,  inference,  22,  68, 
269, 335,  note  1;  mental  activitv, 
133,  235;  impressions,  41,  152. 

Useful.  See  Beneficial. 

V. 

Vanity.  See  Self-esteem. 

Venn,  J.,  299,  note 


372 


INDEX. 


Ventriloquism,  82. 

Verification,  of  sense-impression, 
38,  351;  of  self-inspection,  210; 
of  memory,  291. 

Verisimilitude,  in  art,  80,  88;  in 
theatrical  representation,  104 ; 
in  dreams,  168. 

Vierordt,  245. 

Vision.  See  Sight. 

Visions,  1,  110;  dreams  regarded 
as,  128,  131. 

Vital  sense.  See  Coensesthesis. 

V oice,  internal,  119,  194 ;  activity 
of,  in  dreams,  155. 

Volition,  and  perception,  95  ;  ab¬ 
sence  of,  during  sleep,  137, 172 ; 
co-operation  of,  in  correction  of 
illusion,  352. 

Volkelt,  J.,  172. 


W. 

Weber,  E.  IT.,  43. 

Weinhold,  Professor,  186. 

Wetness,  perception  of,  53. 

Wheatstone,  Sir  C.,  75. 

Wheel  of  life,  56. 

Will.  See  Volition. 

Wordsworth,  W.,  281. 

World,  our  estimate  of,  323,  326, 
327 ;  scientific  conception  of 
material,  8, 36, 343,  344;  reality 
of  external,  344-346,  349,  353, 
355,  360. 

Wundt,  Professor,  W.  13,  note  *, 
31,  note  ’,  32,  note  ',  58,  note  2, 
67,  note  s,  75,  93,  note  *,  118, 
note 3,  136,  note  *,  139,  143, 
177,  246,  247,  note  \  251,  252, 
254. 


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Causation  and  Prevention  of  Insanity :  (B)  Pathological. — VI.  The 
Insanity  of  Early  Life. — VII.  The  Symptomatology  of  Insanity. — 
VIII.  The  same  continued. — IX.  Clinical  Groups  of  Mental  Dis¬ 
ease. — X.  The  Morbid  Anatomy  of  Mental  Derangement. — XI.  The 
Treatment  of  Mental  Disorders. 

RESPONSIBILITY  IN  MENTAL  DISEASE.  (International 
Scientific  Series.)  1  vol.,  12mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

“The  author  is  at  home  in  his  subject,  and  presents  his  views  in  an  almost  siugu- 
iarlv  clear  and  satisfactory  manner.  .  .  .  The  volume  is  a  valuable  contribution  to  one 
of  the  most  difficult  and  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most  important  subjects  of  in¬ 
vestigation  at  the  present  day.” — New  York  Observer. 

“  Handles  the  important  topic  with  masterly  power,  and  its  suggestions  are  practi¬ 
cal  and  of  great  value.” — Providence  Press. 


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GEORGE  J.  ROMANES’S  WORKS. 

MENTAL  EVOLUTION  IN  MAN:  Origin  of  Human  Faculty. 

One  vol.,  8vo.  Cloth,  $3.00. 

This  work,  which  follows  “Mental  Evolution  in  Animals,”  by  the  same  au» 
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of  lower  animals,  and  attempts  to  show  that  there  is  no  distinction  of  kind  be¬ 
tween  man  and  brute,  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  such  distinctions  as  do  exist  all 
admit  of  being  explained,  with  respect  to  their  evolution,  by  adequate  psycho¬ 
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JELLY-FISH,  STAR-FISH,  AND  SEA-URCHINS.  Being 
a  Research  on  Primitive  Nervous  Systems.  12rao.  Cloth,  $1.75. 

“  Although  I  have  throughout  kept  in  view  the  requirements  of  a  general 
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ologist,  by  bringing  together  in  one  consecutive  account  all  the  more  important 
observations  and  results  which  have  been  yielded  by  this  research.” — Extract 
from  Preface. 

“A  profound  research  into  the  laws  of  primitive  nervous  systems  conducted 
by  one  of  the  ablest  English  investigators.  Mr.  Romanes  set  up  a  tent  on  the 
beach  and  examined  his  beautiful  pets  for  six  summers  in  succession.  Such 
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ing  to  be  said  about  jelly-fish,  star-fish,  and  sea-urchins.  Every  one  who  has 
studied  the  lowest  forms  of  life  on  the  sea-shore  admires  these  objects.  But  few 
have  any  idea  of  the  exquisite  delicacy  of  their  structure  and  their  nice  adapta¬ 
tion  to  their  place  in  nature.  Mr.  Romanes  brings  out  the  subtile  beauties  of 
the  rudimentary  organisms,  and  shows  the  resemblances  they  bear  to  the  higher 
types  of  creation.  His  explanations  are  made  more  clear  by  a  large  number  of 
illustrations.” — New  York  Journal  of  Commerce. 


ANIMAL  INTELLIGENCE.  12mo.  Cloth,  $1.75. 

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the  first  attempt  to  present  systematically  the  well-assured  results  of  observa¬ 
tion  on  the  mental  life  of  animals.”— Saturday  Review. 


MENTAL  EVOLUTION  IN  ANIMALS.  With  a  Posthumous 
Essay  on  Instinct,  by  Charles  Darwin.  12mo.  Cloth,  $2.00. 

“  Mr.  Romanes  has  followed  up  his  careful  enumeration  of  the  facts  of  4  Ani¬ 
mal  Intelligence,’  contributed  to  the  4  International  Scientific  Series,’  with  a 
work  dealing  with  the  successive  stages  at  which  the  various  mental  phenomena 
appear  in  the  scale  of  life.  The  present  installment  displays  the  same  evidenco 
of  industry  in  collecting  facts  and  caution  in  co-ordinating  them  by  theory  as  the 
former.” — The  Athenaeum. 


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ERNST  HAECKEL’S  WORKS. 

ME  HISTORY  OF  CREATION;  OR,  THE  DEVELOP- 
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ACTION  OF  NATURAL  CAUSES.  A  Popular  Exposition  of  the 
Doctrine  of  Evolution  in  general,  and  of  that  of  Darwin,  Goethe, 
and  Lamarck  in  particular.  From  the  German  of  Ernst  Haeckel, 
Professor  in  the  University  of  Jena.  The  translation  revised  by 
Professor  E.  Ray  Lankester,  M.  A.,  F.  R.  S.,  Fellow  of  Exeter  Col¬ 
lege,  Oxford.  Illustrated  with  Lithographic  Plates.  In  two  vols., 
12mo.  Cloth,  $5.00. 

THE  EVOLUTION  OF  MAN.  A  Popular  Exposition  of  the 
Principal  Points  of  Human  Ontogeny  and  Phylogeny.  From  the 
German  of  Ernst  Haeckel,  Professor  in  the  University  of  Jena, 
author  of  “The  History  of  Creation,”  etc.  With  numerous  Illus¬ 
trations.  In  two  vols.,  12mo.  Cloth.  Price,  $5.00. 

“  In  this  excellent  translation  of  Professor  Haeckel’s  work,  the  Eng¬ 
lish  reader  has  access  to  the  latest  doctrines  of  the  Continental  school  of 
evolution,  in  its  application  to  the  history  of  man.  It  is  in  Germany,  be¬ 
yond  any  other  European  country,  that  the  impulse  given  by  Darwin 
twenty  years  ago  to  the  theory  of  evolution  has  influenced  the  whole 
tenor  of  philosophical  opinion.  There  may  be,  and  are,  differences  in 
the  degree  to  which  the  doctrine  may  be  held  capable  of  extension  into 
the  domain  of  mind  and  morals ;  but  there  is  no  de^Rg,  in  scientific 
circles  at  least,  that  as  regards  the  physical  history  irganic  nature 
much  has  been  done  toward  making  good  a  continuous  eme  of  being.” 
— London  Saturday  Review. 

fREEDOM  IN  SCIENCE  AND  TEACHING.  From  the 
German  of  Ernst  Haeckel.  With  a  Prefatory  Note  by  T.  H. 
Huxley,  F.  R.  S.  12mo.  $1.00. 


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